


Jailbreak [Working Title]

by darkjaden825698



Category: Persona 3, Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Action/Adventure, Canon Continuation, Gen, Mystery, Sequel, Suspense, Unofficial Sequel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-01-18 03:36:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 38,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12380070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkjaden825698/pseuds/darkjaden825698
Summary: After returning to Tokyo a year later, Akira and his friends, the Phantom Thieves, have all but drifted apart. A mysterious television broadcast threatens their former identities as thieves and forces them all to reconnect. Will this mark the return of the Phantom Thieves?On hiatus.NOTE: Chapters 4 and 5 have been merged to smooth out the pacing of the story. In case you were all wondering what happened.Tagging as I go. Tagged as "Major character death" for future chapters [it's coming and I'm so sorry]





	1. Calling Card

 The bell sitting atop the front door to the café chimed as the door opened, and the familiar scent of coffee and curry assaulted Akira’s nose. It had been over a year since he last smelled the pungent, smoky aroma of Café Leblanc. He smiled and inhaled the nostalgia.

A cheerful Sojiro greeted him upon noticing the boy standing in his diner. Akira shared an embrace with the kind old man, making pleasant small talk before excusing himself to get settled into his attic-bedroom. Upon reaching the top of the stairs, Akira noticed his old room had barely been touched since his departure last spring, which Akira appreciated, but it also meant he would have to do some cleaning, as it hadn’t been dusted in over a year.

Morgana poked his head out of his bag and watched as Akira swept, dusted, and mopped his room. By the time he made the space look livable again, it was already dark out. After Morgana urged him to get some sleep, Akira finally decided to turn in for the night, though he was too wired to get much sleep. He had about a week before starting classes at the University of Tokyo, and he was determined to get as much time in with his friends as possible. He thought about calling Ryuji to invite him to hang out, but decided it would better off saved for the morning.

The sunlight streaming through the open window rustled the tired boy from slumber. Wiping his eyes and stretching with a yawn, Akira stepped out of bed and headed downstairs for breakfast. Sojiro was already in the kitchen preparing for the work day. “G’mornin’, Boss,” Akira yawned.

“Hey, good morning!” Sojiro said. “Would you like some breakfast?”

“Yes, please.”

Akira sat at the bar and drowsily swiped through his phone while waiting for his breakfast. Soon enough, a plate of curry had materialized in front of him. “Now don’t expect me to make you breakfast every day once you start school, kid. But since you’ve just moved back in, I’ll treat ya for now.”

After thanking Sojiro for the meal, Akira picked up his fork and dug in. The curry was delicious, savory and spicy without overdoing it, as was expected of Café Leblanc. After swallowing the last bite, Akira picked up his plate and walked it over to the sink, rinsing off the curry sauce and few grains of rice that had been left behind.

Seeing this, Sojiro let out a sincere chuckle. “And after I’d just gotten used to you being gone, too,” he joked.

“Thank you again for taking me in, Sojiro-san,” Akira said as he scrubbed his plate with the soapy sponge.

“Of course, kid. It's the least I could do. Plus, it’ll be nice having you around helping out again. Not that I really need another extra pair of hands.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Your friend Okumura’s been helping out here whenever she gets the chance. Says she wants to learn from ‘the master’ about how to run a small café.” Sojiro laughed. “The master, huh? What’s so great about running a café like this. It’s not like there’s any money in it.”

Akira set his newly cleaned plate on the drying rack next to the dish sink. “Haru’s been working here?”

“You mean she hasn’t told you? I thought you two were close.”

“We were teammates.” There it was, the past tense that Akira had promised to avoid when talking about his friends. They _were_ teammates, _were_ close. It had been a year since he was last in Tokyo, and it had been about that long ago that he and his friends, the former Phantom Thieves, had all but lost contact.

They said it’d never happen, that their bonds were stronger than anything. Yet like a river approaching a boulder, they began to drift apart. They still spoke every now and then, but without the underlying cause tying them together, they just didn’t have enough in common to stay close.

He heard from Ryuji the most. In fact, if any of his former teammates could still be considered close friends, it was Ryuji. They still texted every now and then, kept each other informed about the goings on in their lives. Miraculously, Ryuji had graduated from Shujin, but afterwards, he didn’t really know what to do.

“It’s rough being here without you, dude,” he’d said in one of their late-night heart-to-heart phone calls. “Ever since graduation I’ve just kinda been…I dunno, floatin’. Not really going anywhere, not really sure what to do. You were always the driving force that kept me goin’, ya know?”

“You’ll find your calling someday, Ryuji,” Akira had assured him.

“I dunno, man. Without the Phantom Thieves, my life just feels…kinda meaningless…”

“I can assure you, it’s not. You’re important to me, Ryuji, and that gives your life meaning to me.”

Ryuji was silent for a moment. “Thanks dude,” he’d said, finally.

\---

_Ching!_ The bell atop the door sounded again, and Akira looked back to see Haru walk through the door. “Good morning, Boss!” she exclaimed cheerfully. Her smile was as ever-present as Akira had remembered it, the kind of smile that instantly brought light to a room and breathed life into the air. “Oh!” As the door swung shut behind her, she glanced behind the counter and saw Akira, finishing the dishes and drying off his hands. “A-Akira-kun!”

Akira greeted his old friend with a smile and a wave.

“What are you doing here?” Haru asked, returning Akira’s greeting with a charming smile of her own.

“I start school at UT next week. The commute from Yongen-Jaya is about half of what it would be from my hometown, so Sojiro offered to let me stay in the attic again.”

“That’s great!” Haru cheered. “It’s so nice to see you again!”

“You, too, Haru.”

Haru gave Akira a genuine, warm hug before slipping on her apron and putting on a pot of coffee. She offered Akira a cup when the brew was finished, and Akira was delightfully surprised at the quality of it. She’d really come a long way since that first cup of coffee she brewed for Takakura over a year ago.

They chatted for a bit, before Akira excused himself back to the attic to go shower and change out of his pajamas. After putting on clean clothes, he decided to call Ryuji. The ringer buzzed for about a minute straight before Akira heard a _click_ on the other end.

“This is Ryuji. Leave a message!” Ryuji’s distorted voice sounded through the phone. Voicemail. Disappointed, Akira left a message and hung up. He decided to try messaging some of his other friends to see what they were up to.

 

**Akira Kurusu:** Hey, Yusuke! Long time no talk. How goes the painting?

**Akira Kurusu:** Makoto, hey! It’s Akira. How’ve you been? I’m in town and was wondering if you wanted to hang out.

**Akira Kurusu:** Hey, Ann! It’s been a while. What have you been up to?

**Akira Kurusu:** Paging Alibaba! I’m back at Leblanc, you should come say hi! I’ve missed you!

 

Akira sat down on his bed, staring at his phone, anxiously awaiting a response. Alas, after about ten minutes, he still had no new messages. “Maybe they’re all busy,” Morgana offered.

“Yeah,” Akira mumbled, the disappointment apparent in his voice. “Maybe.”

After spending an hour staring at the ceiling and daydreaming, he still hadn’t heard from any of his friends. With a defeated sigh, Akira pulled himself out of bed and went back downstairs. At least he could still talk with Haru while she was working. It was then that his phone buzzed.

 

**Makoto Niijima:** I’m a bit preoccupied with studies right now, sorry! Nice to hear from you.

 

Figured. The ever-diligent Student Council President. Akira bounded down the stairs to find that Haru wasn’t behind the counter anymore. 

“I sent her out to pick up some ingredients,” Sojiro said when Akira asked. “There’s a spice I like to use that they don’t sell at the general store here, so I asked her to run to Shibuya to pick it up for me.”

It seemed like the universe was out to make Akira miserable today. None of his friends were being responsive, and the only friend he’d actually seen in person today was gone for the time being. A trip to Shibuya, huh? Even if he went to meet her there, she’d probably be on her way back just as Akira was getting there, and they’d just miss each other.

His phone buzzed again, two messages this time. One from Ann and one from Yusuke.

 

**Ann Takamaki:** OMG How’ve you been? I’ve got modeling gigs lined up all day today, but we definitely need to hang out soon!! 

**Yusuke Kitagawa:** Hello, my friend. It has been quite a while, hasn’t it? My painting is going well. I’ve actually accepted a commission that I need to finish by tomorrow, so I must get back to that. But it has been good to hear from you! Keep in touch!

 

Akira puffed out his cheeks, blowing out the air in exasperation. Maybe he should just wander around Shibuya for a while. Maybe being in the bustling shopping district will at least make him _feel_ less alone.

\---

“Shibuya. This is Shibuya.” The computerized voice sounded over the subway speakers. Akira exited the car and took in the surroundings. The familiar bustling of indistinct voices all around him and beige-yellow tile of the subway platform sent a rush of nostalgia through him. Headed to Station Square, he watched as faceless people bustled around him.

Akira wandered through Shibuya, subconsciously looking for any of his friends, though he knew they’d likely not be hanging out on central street, standing completely still and just waiting for Akira to come up and talk to them. Still, he couldn’t help but find himself in the places his friends would usually spend their time; he spent some time at the arcade, the underground mall, even people-watching in the underground passageway. But, as expected, none of his friends were there.

Feeling defeated, Akira decided to give up and return to Leblanc. “I’m sure they’ll all be able to hang out tomorrow,” Morgana acknowledged. Akira replied with an insincere half-smile.

“No way! Is that you, Kurusu-kun?”

_Hm?_ The voice was barely audible over the crowd, but Akira was sure he heard his name. He spun around to see a blue-haired smiling boy about a yard away from him, waving him down as he pushed his way through the crowd. “Mishima?”

A smile crept onto Akira’s face. He felt bad, having actually kind of forgotten about Mishima. He wasn’t even sure if still had his number, but it was nice to see a familiar face in the crowd. Starved for attention, Akira waved back, waiting for the blue-haired boy to catch up with him.

“How’ve you been? What are you doing back in Tokyo?”

“I’m going to university here, staying at Leblanc again. How about you, what have you been up to?”

The two friends wandered back to Shibuya Crossing together, chatting and catching up on what they’d been up to in the past year. Even though he wasn’t the friend Akira had intended to hang out with today, he was happy to be able to reconnect with another old friend. When talking with Mishima, it was like he’d never left Tokyo. He felt back at home.

“Hey, what’s that?”

“Did somebody hack the feed?”

“Isn’t this like that time back then?”

“What’s going on?”

Confused voices all around them chattered until they blended together. Akira and Mishima looked around to see what all the commotion was about, and their attention was drawn to the giant television screen overhead. Usually showing the news or the weather, the screen was now covered in static. Technical difficulties?

The reception then began to clear up, fading to a pure white background. Feedback still distorted the image a bit, but the picture in the center was clear. It was a mask. A black masquerade mask.

A distorted voice began to speak. “This message goes out to the supposed ‘Phantom Thieves of Heart.’”

Morgana popped out of his bag and shared a worried look with Akira. The crowd began chatting indistinctly amongst themselves, but Akira caught bits of their conversations.

“Phantom Thieves? What are those?” “Don’t you remember? They stole people’s hearts and made them confess to their crimes!” “Wow, I’d totally forgotten about the Phantom Thieves. Weren’t they all the rage like two years ago?” “Yeah, I thought that was all just a publicity stunt, though.” “I still have all my Phantom Thieves merchandise. Are they making a comeback?”

The crowd’s unintelligible blabber was drowned out by the distorted voice over the loudspeaker.

“How are you enjoying your retirement, Phantom Thieves? It was around this time two years ago that you made your grand debut, wasn’t it? Time certainly flies. It’s already been a year and a half since your last target.”

“Has it really been that long?” “I dunno, my boyfriend suddenly started being really nice to me just the other week. Maybe he’s had a change of heart, too.” “This Phantom Thieves bullshit is fake news.” “Is this some kind of event?”

“You’re slacking, Thieves,” the voice continued. “This world isn’t saved. There are still criminals out there whose hearts need changing. What, you’ve dipped your toes into the water but found it too hot after only a few months? Have you gotten lazy, or are you just weak-willed?”

It was taunting them. A big public display, a formal call out, it was clear that this voice was just trying to get a rise out of the Phantom Thieves. It was probably just some prank, some idiot with some basic hacking skills and a distorted sense of justice trying to stage the Phantom Thieves’ big return.

As if in response to Akira’s thoughts, the voice sounded again, drowning out the white noise of the crowd once again. “I know what you’re thinking, Phantom Thieves. ‘This is just a prank, nothing to worry about.’ Well, let me put that false sense of security to rest.”

The voice paused, as if for dramatic effect. The crowd continued to chatter. Some of them were excited, some terrified, and some completely indifferent. It must have been a while since something this interesting happened in Shibuya.

“I know who you are, Phantom Thieves.”

_He’s bluffing_ , Akira thought, though his heart was racing. _There’s no way he knows our identities._

“But I think, more importantly, I know how you steal hearts.”

Hearing that sent a chill down Akira’s spine. He _knew?_ About the Metaverse, about Personas? There was no way. The only people who knew about that were Sae and Sojiro, and of course, the Phantom Thieves themselves.

“I’ll give you some time, Phantom Thieves. Just know that this will not be the last you’ve heard from me. Consider this your calling card. If you do not continue to change people’s hearts, I will make it my mission to steal yours.”

And with a flicker, the screen shut off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Edit notes:**  
>  fixed spacing issues, edited a few minor wordings (10/17/2017)  
> fixed a wording typo in the first paragraph (10/22/2017)


	2. Welcome Back

The atmosphere at Leblanc was dense and filled with anxiety. Ann took another sip of her coffee and leaned back against the counter. Futaba sat in the booth, typing furiously on her laptop. “Can you track the source of that broadcast, Futaba?” asked Ann.

“I’m trying,” Futaba responded, not looking up from her computer. “But the broadcast was like, triple encrypted, and that’s _after_ I was able to hack into the Japanese TV network to trace it. It’s not like they just kept a copy lying around.”

The group shared worried glances between them. “This has gotta just be some prank, right?” Makoto suggested. She stood next to the counter, guarding her chest with her arms. Though she tried to state it matter-of-factly, there was a slight stutter of uncertainty in her voice. “There’s no way he knows about our identities _and_ the Metaverse, right?”

“Yeah,” Haru added. “Whoever it was that made that broadcast had no evidence that he knew about the cognitive world. He could just be bluffing.”

“Yes, or he could have stumbled across our secret, and now poses to threaten our very lives,” said Yusuke.

“But he only said that he knew who we were, and how we stole hearts,” Morgana offered. “He never gave any indication as to what he actually knew. He’s just trying to get us riled up.”

Ryuji growled and punched the seat next to him. “Damn it, this is bullshit. Akira’s finally back after an entire year, we should be celebrating! Not sittin’ here worried about some dumbshit who’s got it out for us.”

“I got something!” Futaba piped up.

“What is it?” Akira asked.

“I found a backdoor through the encryption, and it led me to an IP address. All I have to do is search for the source of the IP and we should be able to find out where Mr. Mask is hiding.”

“Mr. Mask? Is that what we’re calling him?” Ryuji griped. “Sounds lame.”

“Ryuji, can you be serious for once in your life?” Ann snapped.

“I am bein’ serious!”

Suddenly, Futaba recoiled in shock and let out a startled yelp. “What’s wrong?” Akira asked. Futaba swiveled her laptop around to show the group what was on the screen. Ryuji leaned over the table to see the screen.

“This is what that IP address led me to.” Everyone collectively gasped in shock. It was the same image from last night, a black masquerade mask on a white background, only this time there was more to the image. Beneath the icon of the mask, in the same ransom-note lettering that they had previously used on their calling cards, were the words “STEAL YOUR TREASURE.”

“No way,” Ann gasped.

“Well, I think this can confirm that Mr. Mask wasn’t just bluffing last night,” Morgana said.

“Okay, we have _got_ to stop calling him ‘Mr. Mask’,” said Ryuji. “This guy is much too intimidating for a name as lame as that.”

“Will you give it a rest, already?!” Ann jabbed.

“So what do we do now, leader?” Makoto said, and everybody turned to look at Akira.

There wasn’t much they _could_ do. Mr. Mask’s demands were simply out of the realm of possibility. The Metaverse was gone, and with it, Personas, and palaces, and treasures. There literally was no way for the Phantom Thieves to continue stealing people’s hearts, even if they wanted to.

And Akira wasn’t sure if they still wanted to. They’d already dealt with the moral ambiguity of the Phantom Thieves’ methods in the past. Akira felt it was better to leave that era behind them. Unfortunately, it seemed like they didn’t have much of a choice in the matter.

Akira recalled the last thing Mr. Mask said in the broadcast. _Just know that this will not be the last you’ve heard from me. Consider this your calling card. If you do not continue to change people’s hearts, I will make it my mission to steal yours._

“There’s not much we can do at this point,” Akira said. “Mr. Mask said that he would contact us again if we didn’t go back to stealing hearts. And well, we all know that’s impossible. So, there’s not much else we can do until then.”

“So you want us to just wait?!” Ryuji said, balling his hands into fists, ready to slam them on the table at a moment’s notice. Ryuji had a bad habit of taking out his frustration on inanimate objects.

“What else can we do, Ryuji?” Makoto said calmly, trying to soothe his nerves, and perhaps even her own. “Unless you have any ideas.”

Ryuji muttered disgruntledly before crossing his arms and slumping down in his seat with a pout. “Damn it, guess you’re right.”

“There is one thing that’s been bothering me, though,” Makoto said. “That symbol that Mr. Mask has been using, a black masquerade mask. Where have we heard that before?”

“You don’t mean…” Ann started.

“What Madarame and Kaneshiro’s shadows mentioned,” Yusuke remarked. “The criminal in a black mask who caused the psychotic breakdowns and mental shutdowns.”

“Wait, you mean _Akechi?_ ” Ryuji snarled. “But…he died, back in Shido’s palace!”

“We don’t know that for sure,” Akira said. “It’s not like we saw him die.”

“Yeah, but…the gunshots,” Ryuji said.

“And I stopped detecting his life energy after that,” added Futaba in agreement.

“But it would make sense,” Haru offered. “If Akechi were still alive, that is. He knows who we are, he’s aware of the existence of the Metaverse and the methods used to change people’s hearts, _and_ he holds a grudge against us.”

The group fell silent. It _was_ a possibility, and the only one that made sense at this point. The only other people who knew the identities of the Phantom Thieves were Sojiro, Makoto’s sister…and Akechi.

“However,” Yusuke started. “His motives do not seem to be that of a personal grudge. Judging by what he said in his broadcast, I would conjecture he has some kind of distorted sense of justice urging us to return and reform the world.”

“But if he knows about the Metaverse and Palaces, how come he don’t he just do it himself?” Ryuji said.

“Maybe he doesn’t have a Persona of his own?” Makoto said.

“But if he doesn’t have a Persona, how would he be able to make good on his threat of stealing our hearts?” Akira asked.

Nobody had a good answer to that. Nothing was making any sense. Ryuji swiveled the grape-colored liquid in his glass. Everyone else had all but finished their coffee. Now there was nothing to do but sit and stare at their near-empty mugs, contemplating their next course of action.

“I suppose we just have to lay low for now,” Makoto said. “Try not to draw attention to ourselves. If we appear affected by that broadcast, it would only lead people to connect us to the Phantom Thieves.”

“Yeah,” Ryuji said. Silence fell upon the room again.

“That being said,” Akira started, breaking the silence and doing his best to eliminate the tension in the air. “Though I wish it were under different circumstances, it was nice getting together with you all again.”

“Hell yeah, dude!” Ryuji exclaimed. “We all missed you!”

“Sure didn’t seem like it,” Akira muttered under his breath.

The group finished their coffee and, one by one, started to leave. After all, they were all busy adults now, with their own lives and commitments. In the end, only Futaba and Ryuji stayed behind.

“So,” Ryuji said. “Any ideas on what to do now? I feel like shit just sittin’ around waitin’.”

“I’ll try running a search on the deep web,” Futaba said. “The broadcast has gotta be the talking point of the net right now. Maybe somebody’s dug up some info.”

“Good idea,” said Akira.

Futaba typed a few keys, then glanced down at her keyboard. She swiped her finger over the trackpad, then started frantically swirling it in circles. “C’mon, c’mon…” she muttered.

“What’s wrong?” asked Morgana.

“I-it’s…it’s frozen…I can’t get anything on my computer to move. Mr. Mask’s stupid little message won’t go away, either.”

Futaba frantically typed at her keyboard and swiped at her track pad in a desperate attempt to get the computer to fix itself, to no avail. She held down the power key to restart the machine, but nothing happened. “Damn it, he must have laced the site with a virus. He knew we’d try to track him down.”

Futaba slammed her laptop shut and shot a worried glance at Akira. “What, what is it?” he said.

“He knew we would try to track him down. He planted something on my laptop.”

“So?” Ryuji said. “Can’t you just, like…run some kinda anti-virus software or somethin’?”

“If he knew we would try to trace him,” Futaba said. “It might not just be a virus he planted.”

“You think he bugged us?” Akira asked.

Futaba nodded. “It’s possible that he hacked into my camera and microphone.”

“Wait, then if that were the case…” Ryuji started.

“If he didn’t know our identities before, he sure does now,” Morgana said.

“Damn it,” Futaba cursed, slamming her fist down on the table. It seemed Ryuji was rubbing off on her. “This is all my fault. If I hadn’t tried to trace him…”

“No, it’s okay, Futaba. We asked you to,” Akira said, comforting her by giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“I’m gonna have to destroy it,” Futaba whimpered. “Otherwise he’s gonna be able to track us, he’s gonna be one step ahead.”

Akira sat back in his seat. It was only just past noon, but he was already exhausted. He’d barely slept last night, and trying to comprehend everything that had just happened today was mentally tiring. He closed his eyes and almost drifted off to sleep.

Futaba pushed herself out of her seat, grabbing her laptop and placing it under one arm. “If we ever catch this douchebag, make sure he knows that he owes me a new computer,” she grumbled before heading out the door. Akira turned around as he heard a loud smashing sound from outside, and watched Futaba out the front door, crushing the remains of her laptop with her feet. After the laptop was good and broken, she picked up the pieces and threw them in the dumpster out back.

When she was finished, she returned to Leblanc, sat back down, and put her head down. Ryuji patted her on the back.

Akira felt himself drifting to sleep, and excused himself to go take a nap upstairs. Even climbing the stairs to his room was draining, sapping what little energy he had remaining with every step. By the time Akira reached the bed, he only had enough autonomy to collapse onto the bed, losing consciousness before his head hit the pillow.

\---

An unsettling feeling jostled Akira from slumber. He awoke to find himself in a place he’d never seen before, yet was somehow not unfamiliar. The room were covered with doors, scattered across the walls in varying sizes and angles, some too high to even reach. Each one of them was swung wide open. What little walls were left was covered in a soft, blue velvet. The sound of a soothing piano melody wafted into his ears, accompanying the entrance of an operatic soprano.

As Akira’s drowsiness wore off, he found himself sitting in a chair in front of a desk. At that desk sat a peculiar man with a long, slender nose, a nose he recognized instantly.

“Well now, it seems our guest has arrived. It’s been a while,” said Igor. “Welcome, once again, to the Velvet Room.”

Akira nodded. “It’s good to see you again, Igor. Why am I here? And why does this place look so different?”

“This place exists between dream and reality, mind and matter. The state of this room reflects the state of one’s own heart. When you last arrived here, you were a prisoner of your own fate. Now that you have been freed from the shackles of destiny, the state of this room has changed once again.”

“I see,” Akira said, looking around at the newly formed room. Reflected the state of his own heart, huh? Akira apparently had some sappy ideal that life was an open door. How literal.

“Unfortunately, I will not be able to speak with you at length. This room is usually a place only those bound a ‘contract’ may enter. As your contract was fulfilled over a year ago, you are no longer able to freely come to this place.”

“Then, how am I here?” Akira asked.

“I needed to speak with you, while I still had the chance. It appears another game has begun.”

“You mean that broadcast…”

Igor nodded. “From the looks of it, it seems you’ve got your work cut out for you.”

“Do you know what we’re supposed to do? How can we fight back if we don’t have Personas anymore?”

Igor merely smirked in response. The unsettling yet sincere smile of the long-nosed man awoke a revelation from inside Akira. “You mean…?”

“A Persona is a manifestation of the soul, given form by the strength of one’s own heart. To permanently rid oneself of Persona would be no easy task.”

Akira thought back to his time with the Phantom Thieves, and the words that had been spoken to him by his Persona, Arsène. _Though I may disappear this moment, I will always be at your side…_

Arsène had appeared to Akira multiple times throughout his journey, even breaking his chains and transforming into Satanael during the final battle against Yaldabaoth. It seemed Igor was telling the truth, that one could never truly rid themselves of their Persona.

“But what about the Metaverse? We can only use our personas inside the Metaverse, can’t we?”

“It appears our time is coming to an end, my dear guest. This may perhaps be the last time we see each other, so I must leave you with a warning before we part.”

“A warning?”

Igor nodded, and returned Akira's gaze with a serious expression. “Someone close to you will not survive this game. Cherish the bonds you’ve made. While you still can.”

“Wait, what?” Akira retorted, leaping out of his chair in shock. “Who? Who’s going to die? C-can I save them?”

In response, Igor simply smiled touched his index finger to his nose. Akira tried to protest, but he felt his consciousness beginning to wane. _No, not now,_ he thought. _Who doesn’t survive? How can I save them? Igor, answer me!!_

But Akira could not find the energy to say the words out loud. He fell back into the chair, feeling the last remnants of his consciousness slip away from the Velvet Room.


	3. Unrest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is essentially just filler, and I'm sorry about that, but the next couple chapters will be a bit meatier, so stay tuned.

**Makoto Niijima:** Anybody have any word yet on Mr. Mask?

 **Ryuji Sakamoto:** Okay, can I at least SUGGEST a better name for the guy?

 **Ann Takamaki:** No.

 **Futaba Sakura:** No.

 **Yusuke Kitagawa:** No.

 **Akira Kurusu:** No.

 **Ryuji Sakamoto:** Damn, Akira. Even you, bro?

 **Makoto Niijima:** I’m gonna take that as a no, then?

 **Yusuke Kitagawa:** Futaba, were you able to find anything on the deep web about our pursuer?

 **Futaba Sakura:** Negative. I haven’t been able to access it since I’m still setting up my new laptop.

 **Haru Okumura:** What about your home computer?

 **Futaba Sakura:** I’d rather not risk bringing Sojiro into this if I’m traced back to my house.

 **Haru Okumura:** Ah, that is understandable, then.

 **Ryuji Sakamoto:** Okay, how about just The Mask? It sounds way more intimidating than “Mr. Mask.”

 **Ryuji Sakamoto** has left the conversation.

 **Ann Takamaki:** What just happened?

 **Futaba Sakura:** I kicked him out of the chat.

 **Makoto Niijima:** While I do appreciate the silence, we can’t just exclude him from these important discussions.

 **Futaba Sakura:** Fiiiiiine.

 **Ryuji Sakamoto** has joined the conversation.

 **Ryuji Sakamoto:** What the hell, man?

 **Futaba Sakura:** Make another reference to any 1994 movies starring Jim Carrey and you’re out of here, buster!

 **Ryuji Sakamoto:** Does anybody even know what the hell she’s talking about?

 **Makoto Niijima:** Guys, focus!

 **Ryuji Sakamoto:** Sorry…

 

Akira smiled and rolled his eyes. They may have been the Phantom Thieves of Heart once upon a time, but they were all still just kids at heart, joking and teasing each other, even in a time of crisis. The smile quickly faded from his face, however, as Akira remembered Igor’s warning from last night. _Someone close to you will not survive this game. Cherish the bonds you’ve made while you still can._ He had to be careful. There had to be a way to make it out of this without any casualties. There just had to.

“You okay?” Morgana asked, climbing up Akira’s back. “You were kinda spacing out there for a second.”

“Y-yeah, fine,” Akira lied. He returned his attention to his phone and realized that he had missed several messages from his friends.

 

 **Ryuji Sakamoto:** Man, I hate just waiting around like this. There’s gotta be something we can do.

 **Haru Okumura:** But what can we do? We don’t have our Personas anymore.

 **Ryuji Sakamoto:** Still, I’m going insane just sittin’ on my ass like this.

 **Futaba Sakura:** You’d have to back up to get to insane.

 **Ryuji Sakamoto:** Hey!

 **Yusuke Kitagawa:** Actually, I concur with Ryuji, for once.

 **Ryuji Sakamoto:** Wait, really?

 **Yusuke Kitagawa:** Indeed. I’m feeling quite anxious simply waiting idly.

 **Haru Okumura:** If only there was something we could do…

 **Ann Takamaki:** But do we really wanna go back to forcing people to change their hearts? Like, even if we could, isn’t that kinda...wrong?

 

Something Haru said stuck out to him. He was reminded of his trip to the Velvet Room last night again, and what Igor had said about their Personas. Akira battled with the idea of telling them everything that Igor said last night, but eventually decided to leave out the part about one of them dying.

 

 **Akira Kurusu:** Sorry I’m late to respond. I spaced out for a second.

 **Ryuji Sakamoto:** You okay, dude?

 **Akira Kurusu:** Haru, about what you said just a minute ago…

 **Haru Okumura:** About us not having our Personas? What about it?

 **Akira Kurusu:** I’m not so sure that’s the case.

 **Ann Takamaki:**???

 **Futaba Sakura:**?!

 **Ryuji Sakamoto:**!!!

 **Makoto Niijima:** What do you mean?

 **Haru Okumura:** We still have our Personas? How is that possible?

 

“Yeah, I’m wondering the same thing,” Morgana said, having been reading the conversation over Akira’s shoulder. “The Metaverse is gone, how can we still have our Personas?”

 

 **Akira Kurusu:** I had a trip to the Velvet Room last night.

 **Ryuji Sakamoto:** Wait, you mean that weird creepy jail thing? How the hell did you get there? Isn’t it gone?

 **Akira Kurusu:** Apparently it “exists between dream and reality, mind and matter.” I can sometimes visit it in my sleep.

 **Ryuji Sakamoto:** For real?!

 **Akira Kurusu:** And Igor, that big-nosed guy behind the desk, he told me something.

 **Akira Kurusu:** He said that you can never truly get rid of your Personas, because it’s like the manifestation of your soul or something.

 **Haru Okumura:** So all this time, we’ve still had our personas?

 **Akira Kurusu:** That seems to be the case.

 **Ann Takamaki:** But how do we use them? The Metaverse is gone.

 **Akira Kurusu:** I don’t know, but they’re still there. I can still feel Arsene within my heart.

 **Ryuji Sakamoto:** Dude...that’s fucking deep.

 **Yusuke Kitagawa:** Well, there is no use dwelling on it, for now. If we cannot use our Personas outside the Metaverse, we have no means of resisting Mr. Mask if he were to approach us directly.

 **Makoto Niijima:** I suppose all that’s left is to wait.

 **Ryuji Sakamoto:** Dammit, I hate waiting.

 

Akira set his phone down on his desk and looked up at the ceiling. _Someone close to you will not survive this game._ Igor’s words reverberated throughout his head, like an irritating song stuck on repeat, sung in a foreign language he couldn’t decipher.

He had to be one step ahead, he just had to. Yet, he couldn’t figure out what to do. If this was a game, there had to be a way to advance. There had to be a solution to this puzzle. But no matter how many times he tried to fit the pieces together, they never formed anything resembling a coherent picture.

Frustrated and exhausted, Akira decided to take a walk around Yongen-Jaya to clear his head. As he bounded down the stairs, Morgana hopped off the bed and followed him. “Hey, where you going, Joker?”

“Going out for a walk. You wanna come with?”

“Sure.” Morgana climbed up Akira’s back and positioned himself on top of Akira’s shoulder. They both nodded at Sojiro before heading out the door. The sun had started setting and the sky began to darken. With no destination in mind, Akira shoved his hands in his hoodie pockets and simply went where his legs took him.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Morgana asked him.

With a sigh, Akira answered him. “Just, everything that’s been going on, lately. I’m ready to pull my hair out from waiting, but there’s really nothing else we can do for now.”

“Yeah, waiting around does kinda suck. But hey, at least you have me here to keep you company!”

Akira smiled and scratched Morgana’s head. The cat closed his eyes and started to purr, before quickly realizing what he’d just done and shaking Akira’s hand off of him. Akira couldn’t help but laugh. “Sh-shut up,” Morgana commanded. “Not a word of this to the others, understand? Especially Lady Ann.”

Once the sky was pitch black, and the streetlights of the back alleys flickered on, Akira and Morgana decided to head home. He had nothing to do but wait around anxiously until school started up next week, at which point he’d at least have a distraction to occupy his time until they heard more from Mr. Mask.

As his head hit the pillow, Akira hoped he would have another Velvet Room dream. With any luck, it would be one that gave him more answers than it did to raise questions. Unfortunately, Akira slept soundly through the night, with only pleasant but meaningless dreams.


	4. The Boulder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so...I introduce an OC in this chapter. She just kinda...happened, but now she's here and she's here to stay. Some of you probs aren't gonna like her, but idk just give her a chance. She shows up a lot in the next few chapters but then she disappears for a while so just bear with me, okay? :)

It was lucky for Akira that the week leading up to his first day of school was just distracting enough to keep his mind off of Mr. Mask. On Saturday, he went shopping for school supplies with Ann and Ryuji. Ryuji wasn’t going to school this semester, but tagged along because he had nothing better to do. Ann was still undeclared, just taking classes at the local community college, which didn’t start classes until next week, but she said she had to pick up some things to be prepared.

On Monday, he and Makoto went to the University of Tokyo bookstore to buy books. Makoto was attending UT as well, studying Law. She said that she wasn’t too concerned about the actual degree, however, as her real goal was to be a police officer. She had spent the whole summer studying for the police exam. College was just a way to keep her studying and on a consistent schedule.

On Tuesday, he spent the day organizing his room, making sure his desk was set up in a way that would help him be as successful in his studies as possible. He meticulously arranged everything on his desk, designating a spot for his laptop, his pencil holder, his notebooks, and so on. It was a good distraction from his anxiety, but ultimately he still found his mind drifting to Igor’s warning. He still hadn’t told any of his friends about it, and he planned to keep it that way. They already had enough on their minds; he didn’t need to worry them.

Wednesday was the first day of class. Akira stepped off the subway, about a block or two away from campus, with nervous excitement. He ran into Makoto on the way through the gates, and she walked him to his classroom. Akira had made sure to get there well before his first class of the day to make sure he could find his class buildings and classrooms. He and Makoto had spent some time after buying books on Saturday wandering the campus, so he thought he had a pretty good idea of where to go, but he would rather be safe than sorry.

Makoto walked him to his classroom, and then, after saying their goodbyes, walked off in the direction of her own class. With anxious anticipation, Akira walked through the doors to his first college English class. The first thing he noticed was just how large the room was. It was nothing like the classrooms he’d been in in high school. This was a full-on lecture hall, with rows upon rows of tables and chairs, each on varying levels leading down to the bottom of the hall, where a large screen loomed over the class. A small woman with short, dark hair, presumably the professor, sat at the desk in the center of the lowest level, scribbling into a notebook and periodically peering over her glasses to get a look at the students entering the classroom.

Some of the desks were already filled with students, mostly the rows in the back. Akira found a seat somewhere near the middle of the incline and sat down. He unzipped his bag and reached inside to pull out a notebook, but his hands felt something soft and warm inside the bag. Jerking his hand away in surprise, Akira quickly put two and two together. “Morgana?!” he whispered at the bag. “What are you doing here? I thought I told you to stay home today!”

“Aww c’mon, Joker. I couldn’t miss out on your first day of school!” Morgana mewed from inside the bag. Some students in the rows in front of him looked back in confusion, likely wondering where that meowing was coming from. Akira simply pulled his notebook out of his backpack and flashed them a guilty smile, and they turned back around, not entirely convinced, but their curiosity satisfied.

“You almost got me in trouble last year when Ms. Yui saw your tail sticking out from under my desk. I don’t want to get called out on my first day of class here.”

“Yeah, but it’s _college_ ,” Morgana protested. “Nobody cares what you do here; they’ve already got your money.”

As if to confirm Morgana’s argument, nobody even batted an eye the second time the sound of meowing came from Akira’s bag. “Alright,” he surrendered. “You can stay, but you have to be quiet. At least until we know what kind of teacher she is. That’s why I didn’t want to bring you today. You think I was really going to make you stay home during my entire college education? I just wanted to test the waters a bit, see what would fly.”

“Aww, you really do care!”

“Yes, now shut it. Class is about to start.”

Class began and the professor introduced herself as Ms. Hikari Kimura, before pulling out her roster and beginning to take attendance. For a class this large, attendance took a good chunk of the class period.

“I won’t be calling role every day,” Ms. Kimura admitted. “Frankly I don’t care enough whether you come to my class or not. It’s your responsibility to attend class and learn the material as you see fit. I’m just required to submit attendance statistics for the first week or so.”

“See?” Morgana chimed. Akira shushed him.

“That being said, I’ll start learning names and faces soon enough, and I’ll know when you skip class.”

Ms. Kimura started her first lecture, and Akira started to relax a little bit. She seemed pretty relaxed for a college professor, nothing like what Akira was expecting. It was then that his phone went off. When he realized that the buzzing was not stopping anytime soon, and louder than expected, he frantically tried to fish his phone out of his pocket to turn the sound off. Some of the students turned around to look at him, but Ms. Kimura paid him no mind and simply continued going over the syllabus.

“Who’s that, your _girlfriend?_ ” came a voice from his left. Startled by the sudden voice in close proximity to him, he swung his head to the left to see that a girl had sat down next to him. She was tall, her head reaching higher than his, despite her being slouched down in her seat. She had upturned brown eyes with winged eyeliner, and jet black hair pulled back into a ponytail.

“Wh-what?” he stuttered in a hushed tone. “No!”

“Boyfriend, then?”

Akira’s face flushed red as a tomato. “ _No!”_

“Just checking.” The girl winked at him, and Akira blushed deeper.

“The name’s Fukuya,” she said, extending her arm for a handshake. “Aoi Fukuya.”

Akira took her hand and introduced himself.

“So, you live on campus, Fluffles?” Fukuya said, leaning back in her chair so far Akira expected it to topple over at any second.

“ _E-excuse me?_ ”

“Y’know, cuz of your fluffy hair?” Fukuya ruffled his shaggy hair, leaving strands sticking up in a static-y mess.

Akira smoothed out his hair and adjusted his glasses, internally begging the blood in his cheeks to dissipate. “Uh...no, I commute,” he said.

“Where from?”

He hesitated. “Yongen-Jaya.”

“Oh, nice. My folks live around there.”

“Cool,” Akira said. He tried to return his attention to Ms. Kimura’s riveting lecture on the school’s attendance policy and plagiarism contract, but Fukuya wouldn’t let him, constantly jerking his attention back to her with offhanded comments about his hair and glasses. In other circumstances, this would probably be considered bullying, but Akira felt no malice coming from the girl, mostly just a genuine interest and lack of filter. It reminded him somewhat of Ryuji.

“So, this your first rodeo?” she asked.

“Um, do you mean, am I a first year?”

“Yeah that’s a good way of puttin’ it.”

“Yeah, this is my first semester here. What about you?”

“I’ve been around the block once or twice. And by once or twice I mean exactly twice. This is my third year.”

“Isn’t this a freshman level course, though?”

Fukuya shrugged. “Eh, so I like to procrastinate. Gen-eds are so boring, anyway.”

Akira chatted with Fukuya throughout the class period, to the point that he was a bit confused when everybody around him started packing up and leaving the classroom.

“Hey,” said Fukuya. “You wanna grab lunch or some’n? I got some time to kill before my next class, and I know this great sushi place just off campus.”

“Yeah, sushi sounds good,” Akira responded. Stuffing their belongings back in their bags, they walked out of the classroom, making small talk and chatting about the class.

“Teach seems pretty cool,” Fukuya said. “Maybe a bit of a hardass, though.”

“Yeah,” Akira agreed. He felt a vibration against his thigh, and suddenly remembered that his phone had gone off in class. He fished it out of his pocket and checked the display, shielding it from view with his right hand. Sure enough, he had 15 missed messages from the Phantom Thieves.

“Hey,” he said to Fukuya. “Something just came up, I’m really sorry.”

“Huh?” she said. “What’s the matter?”

“Family emergency.” It wasn’t a total lie. The Thieves were like his family, even if they were being kind of distant lately. “Raincheck?”

“Oh, shit,” said Fukuya. “I hope everything’s okay. Yeah, that’s totally fine, we can reschedule. Wanna trade info?”

“Sure.”

He and Fukuya gave each other their numbers, and Akira rushed off to find a place to check his messages.

 

**Ryuji Sakamoto:** Hey, so I actually had an idea about the whole Mr. Mask thing…

**Ryuji Sakamoto:** Not like, about his name either, though I’m still not a fan.

**Futaba Sakura:** Mark the date, folks! On April 4th, 20XX, Ryuji Sakamoto had an idea!

**Ryuji Sakamoto:** Hey, I can have ideas sometimes!

**Yusuke Kitagawa:** What is your idea, Ryuji?

**Ryuji Sakamoto:** It’s kinda hard to explain over text. Do you guys wanna meet up at Leblanc?

**Makoto Niijima:** That sounds like a plan. When should we meet?

**Haru Okumura:** I’m working there all day today, so I’ll be able to meet whenever. I suppose it’s up to our leader when we decide to meet.

**Ryuji Sakamoto:** Akira? You there pal?

**Futaba Sakura:** Hey, leader! What’s the game plan?

**Ann Takamaki:** Hellooo??

**Makoto Niijima:** The semester started today at UT, he’s probably in class.

**Ryuji Sakamoto:** So? It’s not like we didn’t text in class all the time back in high school.

**Makoto Niijima:** Well, SOME of us like to take our studies more seriously.

**Ann Takamaki:** Makoto, don’t you go to UT, as well? Shouldn’t you be in class right now, too?

**Makoto Niijima:**...It’s just syllabus day.

**Ryuji Sakamoto:** BUSTED!! Lol.

**Futaba Sakura:** Do I have to kick you from the chat again?

**Akira Kurusu:** You guys almost got me in trouble.

**Ryuji Sakamoto:** Leader! You’re back!

**Akira Kurusu:** Yeah, sorry about that. I was in class, TRYING to pay attention to the lecture.

 

“No you weren’t,” Morgana chastised. “Tell them I said that.”

“No. Shut up,” Akira said, shoving him back into the bag.

 

**Haru Okumura:** Anyway, now that Akira’s out of class, perhaps we can return to our initial discussion?

**Ryuji Sakamoto:** Oh yeah, I had an idea!

**Akira Kurusu:** I heard. Proud of you, buddy.

**Ryuji Sakamoto:** :D

**Makoto Niijima:** Do you have any more classes today? Should we meet up now?

**Akira Kurusu:** I have another class at 2:30.

**Akira Kurusu:** But then I’m done for the day. Let’s meet at Leblanc at, say 5?

**Futaba Sakura:** Works for me.

**Makoto Niijima:** I work at 6.

**Ann Takamaki:** I actually have a modeling gig tonight...I’m free before 4, though?

**Akira Kurusu:** My class goes until 4.

**Ann Takamaki:** Tomorrow, then?

**Yusuke Kitagawa:** I have an exhibition tomorrow evening for a painting I recently submitted. I should be free before then, however.

**Futaba Sakura:** And I’m in school all day, too. Cuz that’s a thing I do now. I go to school.

**Ryuji Sakamoto:** Okay, but guys, isn’t this a little more important than work and school and stuff?

**Ann Takamaki:** Says the guy who does nothing but sit on his ass all day playing video games.

**Ryuji Sakamoto:** Hey, that’s not true! Sometimes I go to the arcade and play video games!

**Ann Takamaki:** Oh, my mistake.

**Haru Okumura:** Ryuji, is there a reason you can’t just tell us this idea now, over chat?

**Ryuji Sakamoto:** It’d be easier to talk about it in person.

**Akira Kurusu:** But it doesn’t look like we’ll be able to get together anytime soon.

**Ryuji Sakamoto:** :/

**Akira Kurusu:** How about this weekend? Does anybody have any plans on Saturday?

**Makoto Niijima:** I don’t have any classes on Fridays, so we could meet Friday afternoon.

**Futaba Sakura:** I’m down!

**Yusuke Kitagawa:** That should work for me, as well.

**Ryuji Sakamoto:** You know I’m always free.

**Futaba Sakura:** More like cheap.

**Ryuji Sakamoto:** Shut up!

**Akira Kurusu:** Guys, can we decide on a damn time already?

 

As soon as he’d sent the message, he knew he’d gone a little too far. It wasn’t their fault, and he knew that. But still, all the drama with Mr. Mask was nerve-wracking enough, without the added stress of knowing one of his friends was going to die. They needed to take care of this, and fast. He couldn’t afford a misplay in this dangerous game.

 

**Ryuji Sakamoto:** Whoa, Mr. Grouchy-pants. What crawled up your shorts?

**Akira Kurusu:** Sorry, just a little frustrated that we can’t seem to figure this out. Ryuji is kind of right. This is important.

**Makoto Niijima:** I can’t just skip work, though…

**Ann Takamaki:** And I’ve had this modeling gig lined up for weeks. It’ll look bad on me if I cancel last minute.

**Yusuke Kitagawa:** As a featured artist, I am expected to be present to the opening of the exhibition. My absence would tarnish my reputation as an artist until the end of time.

**Futaba Sakura:** Aren’t you being just a little dramatic?

**Ryuji Sakamoto:** Isn’t he always?

**Haru Okumura:** I agree with Akira. Dealing with Mr. Mask is incredibly important. However, if we are to shirk our duties as Japanese citizens, and as students, we will only help to raise suspicion on ourselves.

**Makoto Niijima:** Haru is right. I promise I’m not trying to sidestep my responsibilities as a Phantom Thief, but we can’t let this empty threat control our entire lives.

**Akira Kurusu:** You’re right. I’m sorry for snapping at you guys.

**Ryuji Sakamoto:** ‘Sokay, dude. It happens.

**Akira Kurusu:** So does Friday afternoon work for everybody?

**Makoto Niijima:** Yes.

**Haru Okumura:** Mhm.

**Ryuji Sakamoto:** Yup!

**Ann Takamaki:** I believe so!

**Yusuke Kitagawa:** I am only expected to show up for the premier of the exhibition, so Friday should be fine.

**Futaba Sakura:** As long as it’s after school.

**Akira Kurusu:** Great, then it’s settled. I’ll see you all on Friday.

**Ryuji Sakamoto:** Ugh, tomorrow’s gonna be a long day.

 

Finally the incoming messages stopped, and with a huff, Akira put his phone back in his pocket. Morgana, who had climbed back out of his bag and had been reading the messages over his shoulder, poked him in the cheek with his paw. “Hey, what was that all about? You kinda blew up on them.”

“I’m just frustrated, is all,” Akira huffed, pushing up his glasses and finding a bench to sit down at.

“But can you really blame them? They all have their own lives now.”

“Yeah, I know,” Akira sighed. He leaned into the back of the bench and closed his eyes, feeling the sun’s rays cascading upon his face. “Things were just so much easier for us back in high school. It’s easy to meet up when you all have roughly the same schedule.”

“A lot’s changed in this past year, hasn’t it?” Morgana sulked.

“Yeah, it has.”

With a disappointed sigh, Akira picked himself off the bench and headed back towards the station. Ryuji was right. Tomorrow was going to be a long day.

\---

And so began the two-day-long anxiety trip. Akira tried his best to remain distracted while waiting for Friday to come, but he found it hard to focus on schoolwork with the threat of impending doom hanging above his head. Morgana wasn’t helping things either, constantly begging for attention. It seemed that, over the past year, he’d really grown into his role as a common housecat.

After sitting around being bored and uneasy for most of the day after returning from classes, Akira felt like he needed some company. Some company besides Morgana, who had done nothing but lick himself and cough up a few hairballs all day. He resolved to call up his friends tomorrow and see if any of them were free.

They were, as expected, not free. Even Ryuji, who had made it a point for the group to know that he was never busy, said he had plans for the day.

“Sorry, dude,” Ryuji’s voice said through the phone. “I gotta go grocery shopping for my mom today. She’s gonna be at work the whole day and we’re completely out of food. Maybe tomorrow.”

“Yeah, maybe,” he said before hanging up.

He phoned his other friends, but the result was the same. Ann had that modeling gig, Makoto was working, Yusuke hadn’t picked up, and Futaba had homework. Haru was downstairs working for Sojiro today, but she had her book open and was studying whenever she didn’t have customers to take care of. Even Mishima was busy, though he hadn’t said with what. Now, more than ever, Akira felt isolated and lonely.

Though it was only 7:30, Akira felt there was nothing left to do but turn in for the night. Just as he was about to climb into bed and spend hours staring at the ceiling until he passed out, his phone buzzed. He eagerly grabbed it from the shelf next to his bed and checked the display, hoping it was one of his friends, at the very least available to hold a conversation with him to occupy his attention. Unfortunately, it wasn’t one of his friends. It was Aoi Fukuya, the girl he’d met in class the other day.

 

**Aoi Fukuya:** Hey, Fluffles. Hope everything’s cool with your family situation. Just wanted to check in, see how you were doing. You gonna be in class tomorrow?

**Akira Kurusu:** Hey, thanks for checking in. That’s really sweet of you. Yeah, I’m doing alright. I should be in class tomorrow.

**Aoi Fukuya:** Good, cuz I wanted to cash in that raincheck tomorrow. :P

**Akira Kurusu:** Lol. Oh yeah? Wanna grab lunch? I get out of class at 12:30.

**Aoi Fukuya:** It’s like you’re readin’ my mind, Fluffles! I’ll see ya tomorrow.

**Akira Kurusu:** Lol, yeah, see you tomorrow!

\---

“Aww, and who’s this?” Fukuya’s voice jumped up an entire octave as she noticed Morgana, who had poked his head out of Akira’s bag. “Is this why I thought I heard meowing in class earlier?”

“That’s Morgana,” Akira replied. “My, uh, pet cat.” Morgana shot him a look. “He snuck into my bag this morning without me realizing. Guess he just couldn’t stand to be without me.”

“Shut up,” Morgana mewed.

“He’s so cute!” Fukuya squealed, gently placing a hand on Morgana’s head. Morgana’s expression softened and he began to softly purr at the girl’s touch. Akira snickered.

Fukuya led Akira to a sushi place not far from the edge of campus. “You’re gonna love this place,” she said. “I first discovered this place freshman year and I’ve been going there whenever I get some extra cash. Their seaweed wraps are to  _die_ for.”

They didn’t have much time to really discuss the merits of the restaurant, however, because the place was only about five minutes away from the building their classroom was in. The place looked a bit run-down, being in the center of a strip mall that didn’t have much else in it. As well as the sushi place, there was a closed-in ATM, a salon, and a rather grody looking McDonalds. Akira was having second thoughts about the place, but Fukuya assured him it looked a lot better on the inside.

Making sure Morgana was hidden in his bag, they entered the restaurant and were escorted to a booth near the back. Akira was pleasantly surprised to find the interior quite nice, actually. It had a homey, nostalgic vibe, similar to Leblanc in that way. The waitress brought them some water and menus, leaving the two of them to discuss their favorite types of sushi and decide what to get. Morgana, of course, recommended the fatty tuna.

The food was incredible. Fukuya had not been lying when she praised this place. Akira slipped a piece of fatty tuna to a gracious Morgana, who gulped it down in one bite, nuzzling up to Akira in gratitude. Fukuya noticed the cat poke his head out of Akira’s bag and cooed at it. Morgana meowed in response, but Akira heard it as “I like this one, Joker.” It seemed Morgana was smitten.

It was moments like these that Akira usually felt something within him, some part of him telling himself, “I feel a slight bond forming between me and Fukuya.” Though he did feel that he had made a friend, he felt no significant change within himself. Was this what it was like to just make a normal friend for once, without any ulterior motive, any underlying cause linking his bonds to his Personas? It felt...nice. It felt normal.

After a while, it was time for Akira to head to his next class class. He and Morgana said their good-byes to Fukuya, and headed back to campus for his next lecture. On his way back, he received another text from Fukuya. “You’d better bring that cat to class on Monday, Fluffles. I’ll never forgive you if you don’t.”

With a smile and a short chuckle, Akira typed his response. “Understood.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Edit notes:**  
>  Edited the dates to make things more consistent both internally and with the actual Japanese school schedule (11/08/2017)  
> Merged chapters four and five because they were both fairly short chapters (12/05/2017)


	5. Attack Roll

At long last, the promised day arrived. The Phantom Thieves gathered on Friday at Leblanc to discuss Ryuji’s transcendent idea, a feat that most of the Thieves still found incredulous. They all sat in their usual spots, anxiously awaiting the reveal of the thought that had plagued Ryuji’s very existence for an entire day.

“So,” Ann implored. “What’s this big idea you had?”

“It better be good, for making us wait to get together in person,” said Makoto.

“Oh it is, trust me!” Ryuji grinned. “Okay, so I was thinkin’, right?”

“That’s a first,” Futaba interjected.

“Will you let me finish?!” Ryuji snapped. “Anyway, so I was thinkin’ about how I couldn’t stand just sittin’ around doin’ nothing, right? Just waiting for the guy to contact us again--”

“Which guy do you mean, exactly?” Ann teased.

“Don’t make me say it,” Ryuji grumbled. “But yeah, so I got sick of waiting and started thinkin’, what if, instead of waiting for him to get in touch with _us,_ why don’t _we_ contact _him_ first?”

“Great plan, genius,” Futaba said. “Except we don’t know a thing about this guy.”

“Yeah, I _know_ that. But think about it, how did he contact us the first time?”

“Wait,” Haru started. “You don’t mean--”

“Exactly! The television broadcast. We should send the dude a message, same way he did us!”

“That’s...actually a good idea, Ryuji,” said Akira. “I’m surprised.”

Ryuji beamed, flashing a smile that lit up the whole restaurant. “I can be smart sometimes, ya know.”

“Wait, why couldn’t you just say all this over text?” Futaba pestered.

“Cuz I’m bad with words and the typey-typey.” Ryuji held his hands out in front of him, tapping his thumbs on his index fingers to mimic typing on a phone. Ann hid her face in her hands and groaned.

“That aside,” Makoto sighed. She turned to Futaba. “Think you can whip something up for us?”

“Lickety-split, now that my new laptop is up and running!”

“We will essentially be unveiling the return of the Phantom Thieves,” Yusuke mused. “This is actually rather exciting.”

“But what kind of message will we send Mr. Mask?” Haru asked. “We can’t exactly reveal key details about us or the nature of our powers to the general public.”

“We can bait him out,” Makoto suggested. “Tell him to contact us directly. If we can get in touch with him personally, we can find out how much he knows, about the Metaverse, about Personas.”

“And then we smash him, right?!” Ryuji barked, pounding his fist into his palm with naive determination. The group sighed in response.

“We’re making headway, though,” Akira said. “Now we’re not just sitting ducks.”

“We can take the fight to him,” Haru agreed.

“If there’s even a fight to be had,” said Yusuke.

Everyone looked back in confusion. Akira cocked an eyebrow at him. “What do you mean?”

“Mr. Mask seems motivated by the ideal of reforming society, changing the hearts of the wicked. I do not believe he has reason to quarrel with us. In fact, I conjecture he might rather form a partnership.”

“You mean, he wants to work with us?” said Ann.

“It does make sense,” said Morgana. “In his message to us, he said he wanted us to continue changing hearts, to go back to our days as the Phantom Thieves.”

“He’s like a kid, whose heroes have begun to disappoint him, so he lashes out,” added Haru.

Nobody had anything more to add to that. The group just stared at their coffee cups for a minute, trying to wrap their heads around everything.

“So,” Futaba chimed in, at last breaking the awkward silence that filled the room. “I’ll come up with some kinda message to Mr. Mask, and then hack into the Tokyo TV servers and broadcast it.”

“Then we just have to wait for a response,” said Makoto.

“Damn it, more waitin’,” Ryuji complained.

“I can probably whip something up tonight,” Futaba said. “Then broadcast it tomorrow evening during prime time.”

“Sounds like a plan,” agreed Akira.

The friends all finished their drinks and headed on their way. After everyone had left, Akira headed upstairs to study for a bit before bed. Morgana followed him up and stretched out on the floor next Akira’s bed, letting out a yawn. “So, today went better than expected,” he said.

“Yeah,” Akira responded, sitting down at his work desk and opening up his bag to take out his History book. “We have a plan, now. It’s definitely better than waiting around.”

“I wonder who Mr. Mask is,” Morgana said. “For all we know, he might actually be Ms. Mask.”

“That does sound more threatening, actually,” Akira laughed. “You should tell that to Ryuji next time he’s here.”

“Or Mrs. Mask.”

“Okay now you’ve ruined it.”

Morgana and Akira shared a laugh, before Akira returned his attention to his book. He didn’t get very far though, because his phone buzzed, distracting him from any kind of productivity he may have had.

 

 **Aoi Fukuya:** Hey Fluffles! Wanna get together and study tomorrow for English? I could use a study buddy!

 

Akira smirked. Studying together with his new friend was probably just the distraction he needed before the broadcast tomorrow.

 

 **Akira Kurusu:** Sure thing! Meet in Shibuya around 2?

 **Aoi Fukuya:** Sounds like a plan. Bring Morgana!

 **Akira Kurusu:** You only like me for my cat, don’t you?

 **Aoi Fukuya:** Whaaaaat, noooo. That’s crazy. ;)

 **Akira Kurusu:** Lol. See you tomorrow.

 

“Who was that?” Morgana asked as Akira set his phone back down on the desk.

“My friend Fukuya, from the other day. She wants to meet up tomorrow to study.”

“Ooh, sounds like it’s getting serious between you two, huh?” Morgana teased.

Akira could feel his face getting hot. “Shut up, it’s not like that. She’s just a friend.”

“Sure, okay. Well if you’re not gonna hit that maybe I’ll steal her from you.”

“You’re a _cat!_ ” Akira said.

“So? She seemed to like me a lot last time.”

Akira scoffed and brushed off Morgana’s teasing, returning to his book to study, only to find he could no longer concentrate. Ah, well. He’d be studying tomorrow with Fukuya, so there wasn’t much point in trying to force it tonight. Closing the book and returning it to his bag, Akira decided to turn in for the night.

\---

The next day, he and Fukuya met at Shibuya Crossing and managed to get a seat on the second floor of the coffee shop overlooking the street. It was loud and crowded, but the buzz made for a nice white noise for studying. English had never been Akira’s best subject, but he helped out Fukuya the best he could as they went over the material for class.

“Man, English is hard,” Fukuya said with a sigh. “It’s so dumb that we still have to take English past high school. It’s not like we’re ever gonna use it in real life.”

“Lots of people speak English,” Akira said. “Like, if you ever go to a foreign country, English is the best language to learn.”

“Yeah, but I ain’t plannin’ to skip town anytime soon.”

After a while, they decided to take a break. Fukuya played with Morgana while Akira ordered them another round of drinks. Morgana seemed happy as a clam to be getting some love and affection. The poor cat must be starved for it. Ever since Akira left Tokyo last year, nobody else around could understand Morgana, so it was almost as if he was just a normal house cat.

Their drinks came, and Akira glanced at his watch. It was almost 5. That was when Futaba had planned to hack the television feed and broadcast their message to Mr. Mask. Though it wasn’t the only reason he had decided to spend time with Fukuya today, it was convenient that he had an excuse to be in Shibuya during the broadcast. It would raise less suspicion on him if he were out in public when it aired, especially with an eyewitness. Their seats in the coffee shop provided a perfect view of the screen too.

“Hey, what’s that?” “This again?” “Another weird broadcast?” “What’s going on?” “Is this about the Phantom Thieves again?”

Akira heard confused chatter among the crowd of customers. Some pointed at the screen in the center of Shibuya Crossing, though Akira could see others down on the ground level pointing at other screens in the area. Futaba had managed to hack them all, that little genius. He had to bite back a smirk.

The blank static on screen caught everybody’s eye, and once they’d all turned their attention to the screens, the sound of static grew louder and louder, until dying away as a picture faded into focus. Against a blood-red background was the Phantom Thieves signature logo, the same one they’d used on their calling cards in the past. Underneath it, in lettering styled like a ransom note, were the words “TAKE YOUR HEART.”

A deep, distorted, computerized voice echoed throughout Shibuya Crossing. “This is a message to the one in the black mask. We are the Phantom Thieves.” Akira noticed Fukuya’s eyes narrow at the mention of their name. The sounds of people muttering around them grew louder. “Your message the other day surprised us quite a bit. I would imagine your demands shook up the public, as well, as the Phantom Thieves had all but been lost from their memories.”

“Wow, they’re right. I had all but forgotten about the Phantom Thieves until that last broadcast.” “Same here. I wonder if I still have my calling cards stationery set.” “You actually bought that? What were you going to do, send out threats to your enemies?” “No! I was actually thinking they’d be really cool for wedding invitations.”

The people all around them were abuzz with talk of the Phantom Thieves, an unfortunate side effect of sending out a public message like that. They wanted to reach Mr. Mask, so they had to make sure _everybody_ saw the message. Unfortunately, now that the Phantom Thieves were on everybody’s radar again, it meant they would have to try their hardest to fly _under_ that radar. Fukuya muttered something under her breath as the broadcast continued.

“You claim to have knowledge of things no ordinary man should have knowledge of. Our identities, our methods. If this is truly the case, then you should have no troubles contacting us directly. Do you see where I’m going with this? You say you want social reform, that you want us to change the hearts of criminals. Well, in that, I would say, our motives align. Perhaps some sort of agreement can be made.”

“An agreement?” “The Phantom Thieves are going to be working with that weird Mask guy from the last broadcast?” “This has gotta just be some kind of publicity stunt, right? To scare criminals from doing anything bad?” “Yeah, right. Like scare tactics have ever worked in the past.” “You’re saying this is legit then?” “Who knows? Maybe.”

“If you truly wish to see society reformed, then make good on your threats. Speak to us directly. We will settle this in person.”

“Oooh, catfight!” “For real? Is this some kind of turf war?” “Should we be scared?” “But the Phantom Thieves are the good guys, right?” “Mommy, what’s going on? Where’s that scary voice coming from?”

 _It seems we’ve caused quite a stir,_ Akira thought. He pushed up his glasses and fought the urge to smirk. The voice stopped speaking, and the logo and red background faded back into the regularly scheduled programming. Well, they had certainly gotten their message across. Akira looked away from the screen and saw Fukuya pouting, her face drained of color. “What’s wrong?” he asked. Morgana asked the same thing, though it probably just sounded like a concerned meow to her.

“I thought we were finally rid of those bastards,” she muttered.

“Who? The Phantom Thieves? Do you not like them, I take it?”

“No, it’s not that,” she sighed. “I just...kinda resent them, that’s all.”

“Why?”

Fukuya shifted her eyes to the side and crossed her arms defensively. “I don’t really wanna talk about it.”

Akira nodded in understanding. In all honesty, he didn’t really want to talk about it either. She resented the Phantom Thieves? For what? Had he and the others done something to her without noticing? He wanted to know, but feared he wouldn’t be able to remain impartial and would say something stupid, so he dropped the subject.

The atmosphere between them was tense, but they tried to get back to studying. After about an hour without accomplishment, Fukuya decided to give up for the night and head home. With the sky beginning to darken, Akira decided that was a good choice as well. After saying their goodbyes, Fukuya gave Morgana one last squeeze before handing him back to Akira and taking her leave.

“That seemed to go well,” Morgana said on their walk back to the station.

“Everybody’s going to be talking about us again.”

“Is that such a bad thing?”

“I’m wary. Things could turn bad if the group comes under suspicion again.”

“Yeah...We’ll just have to be careful.”

Akira nodded. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and boarded the train back to Yongen-Jaya.

“What was up with Fukuya-chan, today, too?” Morgana said, popping out of his bag again once they were out of the station and back in the backstreets of home. “She resents the Phantom Thieves? For what? What did we do?”

Akira shrugged. “Beats me. She didn’t seem to want to talk about it.”

Once they were finally home, Akira headed immediately for his room and kicked off his shoes. It had been a long day, and he needed some rest.

For some reason, though, he couldn’t relax the whole night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Edit notes:**  
>  deleted a few redundant lines to improve flow (2/16/2018)


	6. Critical Miss

The next day was Sunday. It would be nice to finally have a day off, with school and everything with Mr. Mask weighing him down. Akira decided to sleep in to recharge. He awoke at around noon, and laid in bed for about half an hour before finally pulling himself up and hopping in the shower to start the day.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he noticed Haru was working today. They cheerfully said hello, and Haru went about making Akira his “morning” coffee. He inhaled the bittersweet aroma of the dark liquid inside his cup, and lifted it to take a sip. Before the coffee could touch his tongue, however, his phone started vibrating violently. He intended on ignoring the message until after he’d woken up a bit more, but when the vibrating continued after more than a second or two, he realized it wasn’t a message, but a phone call.

Fishing his phone out of his pocket, he checked the display to see that he was being called by Makoto. He hit the “Accept” button on his phone and brought it to his ear. “Hey, Makoto. What’s up?”

“Turn on your TV.” Her voice was stoic and expressionless, until the end of her command, in which her voice began to crack a little bit.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“Just do it.”

Without hanging up, he got out of his seat and turned on the TV set at the end of the cafe. Haru gasped, and Akira’s eyes widened at the screen. It was the same screen he’d seen the previous day out in Shibuya, the familiar blood red background and logo. It was the Phantom Thieves’ logo. The same, cutout letters spelled the same “TAKE YOUR HEART” catchphrase beneath the logo.

“What is this?” Haru trembled. “Are they playing the broadcast from last night again?”

“Somehow I doubt that,” Akira mumbled. 

Morgana bounded down the stairs and hopped up on the chair next to where Akira had been sitting. “What’s going on?” he asked. “I heard Haru gasp. Is everything--” he cut off upon seeing the logo on the TV screen. “Wh-what the…?”

“This is a message to the general public,” came the same distorted voice from the night before. “From the Phantom Thieves.”

“Makoto, what is this?” Akira shouted into the phone.

“I don’t know,” she responded. “I tried calling Futaba, but the line was busy.”

“Try calling her again,” Akira told her. “Make sure she’s okay.”

“You don’t think she decided to send out another broadcast, do you?” Makoto asked.

“No, I don’t think so. This seems different somehow.”

Akira couldn’t shake the pertinent feeling of dread that was hanging over him. He’d felt it last night, too, before bed, but he brushed it off as uneasiness over Fukuya and her mysterious grudge against the Phantom Thieves. Now he was overtaken with a chilling sense of terror. The coded voice continued.

“Since our debut back in the Spring of two years ago, we have strived to make the world a better place by changing the hearts of the wicked. We have remained anonymous, vigilantes of justice hiding in the shadows, waiting for the opportunity to strike. Now, I believe it is time to step out of those shadows.”

What was going on? Haru, Akira, and Morgana stood frozen in shock, staring with mouth agape at the screen, as the ominous message resumed. Akira shuddered at the voice’s next line, chills crawling down his spine.

“My name is Akira Kurusu. I am the leader of the Phantom Thieves.”

The message may have continued, or it may have gone silent. Akira couldn’t tell. His ears had shut down, his vision blurred. Nearly collapsing to the ground, he placed a hand on the counter to steady his balance. Haru shut off the TV and placed her hands on his shoulders and spoke softly at him, though Akira could only hear it as a gentle white noise, his brain unable to comprehend what words she was saying. His brain was working in overdrive to process what had just happened, and it couldn’t be bothered with interpreting anything else.

Akira sat down and regained his composure, finally getting a chance to take a sip of his coffee that had gone cold. “Haru, call the others,” he said finally. “Tell them to meet at Leblanc immediately. I don’t care what they have going on.”

Haru nodded and pulled out her phone. Akira’s phone buzzed against the counter as Haru contacted the Thieves via group chat. His phone continued to buzz periodically, but Akira didn’t bother checking the messages.

\---

A tense silence filled the air. The Thieves had all gathered, but none of them knew what to say. They weren’t really sure what had actually just happened, so they just sat in silence, waiting for one of them to come up with something to say.

The bell atop the front door rang, and the group all faced the entrance to see Sae Niijima, Makoto’s sister, walk in. “I came as quickly as I could,” she said. “Makoto told me everything.”

“Sis,” Makoto said, looking up at her sister, her eyes glazed with worry.

“What the eff is going on here?” Ryuji shouted.

“I’m not sure,” Sae said.

Morgana brushed the top of his head with his paw. “I can make a guess.”

“It wasn’t me!” Futaba assured.

“We know, don’t worry,” said Akira. Everybody was chattering worriedly. Panic began to spread throughout the cafe.

“Sis,” Makoto said, addressing Sae. “Is Akira going to get arrested again?”

Sae shook her head. “I doubt it. We have Double Jeopardy in Japan. He was already tried and found guilty of the crimes committed by the Phantom Thieves last winter, and acquitted last spring.”

“That’s a relief,” sighed Ann.

“I don’t fully trust the SIU not to find something to charge him with, though,” said Sae. “The prosecution’s office is likely building a case against him right now.”

Nobody had anything to say to that. An uncomfortable silence set in on them.

“Sis, you used to work for the prosecutor’s office. Can’t you find out something?”

“I can try, but I can’t promise anything.”

“So what exactly happened?” Haru asked. “I’m still not entirely sure of the details.”

“We can’t be sure,” Morgana said. “But I’d wager a guess that Mr. Mask stole the video footage from our broadcast yesterday and used it to forge his own, outing our leader as a warning.”

“He’s saying, ‘Don’t mess with me,’” Makoto guessed. 

Morgana nodded. “That’s likely the case.”

“If we can be sure of one thing,” Yusuke said. “It is that Mr. Mask does indeed know of our identities, and isn’t afraid to use them against us.”

“What’s his aim?” Ann asked. “What does he stand to gain from putting Akira under suspicion again?”

“Who knows?” Akira said. “Maybe he doesn’t have an aim. Maybe his only intention was just to warn us not to stand against him.”

“This guy’s more powerful than we could have thought,” Futaba said.

“Damn it,” Ryuji grumbled. “I can’t believe my plan backfired so bad.” Haru placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

They thought they were a step ahead, but they played right into his hands. Mr. Mask definitely knew their identities, this incident confirmed that. But now Akira was placed under suspicion once again, and he and his friends were terrified.

“So what do we do now?” Ann said.

Sae caught a glance from Makoto, simply shaking her head in response. “There’s not much you can do right now,” she said, turning to Akira. “I’ll look into what the prosecution’s office is up to. For now, I suggest you lay low. Try to convince society that you’re an honest civilian.”

Akira nodded in agreement. Sae shot a concerned look at her sister, then turned and walked back out the door, leaving the Thieves alone with their thoughts.

“I can’t believe things have gone so wrong so fast,” Ann said.

“Yeah,” Haru said.

“This sucks,” said Ryuji.

“For once, I agree with you,” said Futaba.

The group collectively sighed, and the restaurant fell silent once more. Akira studied the worried looks of all his friends. He thought back to his trip to the Velvet Room, and how Igor had said this was another game. If it was a game, then there had to be a way to beat it. Who made the rules of this game? Who enforced them? Akira couldn’t help but feel like he was trapped in a miniature figurine on a gameboard, while somebody else rolled the dice for all of his moves.

After a while of more discussion that lead nowhere, the group decided to disperse for the time being. Akira wasn’t sure if he should go to school the next day. On the one hand, going out in public was probably not a good idea the day after he’d supposedly outed himself as a criminal. But on the other hand, if he was to keep up the appearance of being a normal college student, missing class the day after supposedly being framed as a criminal would look suspicious as well. 

After trying to calm himself down, he pulled out his phone to text Makoto and ask if Sae had found anything. He knew deep down that there was no way she could have found anything that quickly, but maybe she could at least offer some advice on what to do tomorrow. He went to unlock his phone, only to find he had several missed messages. Some of them were from the Phantom Thieves group chat, when Haru texted them to meet at Leblanc earlier, but he also had a few messages from Fukuya.

Oh shit. Fukuya. He hadn’t even thought about how the news that he was the supposed leader of the Phantom Thieves would affect her. She seemingly hated the Phantom Thieves, but seemingly liked Akira a lot. He unlocked his phone and opened the chat conversation with Fukuya.

 

**Aoi Fukuya:** Fluffles, please tell me this is some kind of joke.

**Aoi Fukuya:** That you’re being framed or some shit.

**Aoi Fukuya:** Akira, please tell me that you’re not the leader of the Phantom Thieves.

**Aoi Fukuya:** Hello?

**Aoi Fukuya:** Oh my god.

**Aoi Fukuya:** You’re not answering me. Does that mean it’s true?

**Aoi Fukuya:** Fucking hell, man.

 

Akira quickly responded so as to ease her anxiety. He knew he couldn’t tell her the truth, that he actually  _ was _ the leader of the Phantom Thieves. He didn’t want to lie to her, but deep down, he knew he had to. Like Sae said, he had to convince everybody that he was a normal citizen. Everybody, even his friends. Still, typing the words stung Akira in his heart.

 

**Akira Kurusu:** Sorry for the late reply. Being framed as a criminal tends to warrant discussion from the police.

**Aoi Fukuya:** Oh thank god. I was seriously terrified.

**Akira Kurusu:** Yeah, don’t worry.

**Aoi Fukuya:** I don’t know what I’d do if my best friend turned out to be a Phantom Thief.

**Akira Kurusu:** Lol. Best friend? We’ve known each other for less than a week.

**Aoi Fukuya:** So maybe I don’t have many friends. Sue me!

**Akira Kurusu:** Lol.

**Aoi Fukuya:** Hey, do you wanna ditch class and meet up at the park tomorrow?

**Akira Kurusu:** Um, maybe. I don’t know if I’m going to school tomorrow anyway.

**Aoi Fukuya:** Whaaaat? Why not, my dude?

**Akira Kurusu:** Aoi, I just got branded as a criminal in the eyes of not only the police, but most of the population of Tokyo. I’m not sure if going out in public is such a good idea.

**Aoi Fukuya:** You make a good point. Maybe I’ll just swing by your place and we can hang out. You said you live in Yongen-Jaya right?

**Akira Kurusu:** Yeah, but you really shouldn’t skip class.

**Aoi Fukuya:** Coming from the guy who’s considering skipping class tomorrow.

**Akira Kurusu:** Lol. But seriously, I’ll keep you updated on what I plan to do.

**Aoi Fukuya:** Either way, see you tomorrow?

**Akira Kurusu:** Sigh. Fine, see you tomorrow. Lol.

**Aoi Fukuya:** :)

 

Akira put his phone down on his desk and leaned back in his chair, letting out a deep, exasperated groan. “That your girlfriend, Joker?” Morgana said, hopping up onto the desk.

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” Akira stated.

“Coulda fooled me.”

“I’m not in the mood to joke around today, Morgana.”

“Sorry.” Morgana curled up on the desk and sulked. “What a day, huh?”

“I just gotta hope that tomorrow will be better.”

“Yeah, let’s hope.”

Akira pet Morgana on the head before getting up from his desk to prepare for bed. Morgana curled up at the edge of the mattress, and Akira slipped in under the covers. He just had to hope that tomorrow would be better. Just had to hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I've decided to stop doing the anime preview things because it's hard to write a summary about the chapters without spoiling stuff lol)


	7. Suspicious

In the end, Akira decided it was best not to skip class. Quickly shooting Fukuya a text to inform her of his plan, he picked up his bag and headed out the door. Conversing via text on his commute, he and Fukuya made plans to get lunch again after class. It was strange, pretending everything was normal between them, when he knew that he was holding back a secret that would likely cause the inevitable downfall of their friendship. Even Morgana seemed a little on-edge at the thought that one slip up could cause a falling out. Akira decided it was just out of the question for her to ever find out about his past as the leader of the Phantom Thieves.

His past. Was it really all in the past? Suddenly, he had been thrust back into the role of leader, king in a seemingly endless game of chess. Or was he more of a pawn, like in the previous game. Was Akira’s life nothing more than a conduit for terror and destruction? No. He pushed those intrusive thoughts away. It was no use getting existential right now. He had to be at the top of his game. One slip up could spell the end for him and his friends, and he couldn’t let that happen.

Akira stepped off the train at Hongo-sanchome Station and began his half-mile trek to campus. Anxiety pulsed through him with each step. What would his classmates say? Would they even say anything? Only his name was released, not his likeness. He doubted many people in his large lectures really knew his name, aside from Fukuya, of course. 

Still, as he stepped into his classroom, some students turned around and looked at them. Fukuya was already in her seat, shooting death glares at anybody who so much as looked at Akira. He nervously took his seat beside her and proceeded to bury his face in his book. The words jumped off the page and blurred together in his vision, but it provided as a good cover not to have to speak to anyone.

Akira barely retained a word from the lecture. He couldn’t concentrate between his racing mind and the glances and whispers of his classmates. If Ms. Kimura noticed them, she paid them no mind. After class had ended, however, as everybody was packing up and heading out the door, she called out, with a sense of intensity behind her voice. “Kurusu!”

Startled at hearing his own name, Akira glanced down to the bottom of the lecture hall, where Ms. Kimura was sitting at her desk. He met her glare, and she motioned for him to come down. Akira turned to Fukuya and told her to go on ahead. “I’ll meet up with you,” he said.

“Don’t keep me waiting too long, Fluffles.”

Akira nodded to her, and they walked off in opposite directions. Fukuya headed out the door just as Akira reached the bottom of the stairs. “Yes, ma’am?”

Most of the other students had dispersed, but a few remained, pretending not to be eavesdropping on the conversation between the professor and the proposed leader of the Phantom Thieves. “Excuse me,” Ms. Kimura called out to them. “Class is over. I’m sure you have other places to be besides my classroom. Get a move on.” The intimidated students frantically picked up their things and left, leaving Akira alone in the classroom with his teacher.

“What’s this about?” Akira asked, trying his best not to sound insinuative.

“I can’t be bothered to learn all of my students’ names,” Ms. Kimura started. “Yet some of them stick with me from the first time I hear them. There’s no rhyme or reason behind it, I just see a name, and it’s imprinted in my brain. That’s why, when I saw that broadcast yesterday…” Akira gulped. “I knew something was off.”

Ms. Kimura opened up her binder and pulled out a packet of paper, held together with only a single staple. She handed it to Akira, and he took it in his hands, leafing through some of the pages. “Th-this is…”

“Your record, yes.” Ms. Kimura said. “It took some digging to find. After Masayoshi Shido’s confession last year, you were cleared of any charges, and your record was wiped clean.” Akira handed the packet back to Ms. Kimura, who stuffed it back into her binder and secured it in her bag. “So, yes. I know all about you, Akira Kurusu, leader of the infamous Phantom Thieves.”

Akira began to sweat. Ms. Kimura’s tone was harsh and accusatory. Though, that was how she sounded during her lectures, as well, so he couldn’t be sure if this wasn’t just her normal conversational tone.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “I know you’re on edge. I know you’re nervous.” She leaned forward in her chair, placing her elbows on the desk in front of her. “I also know that you didn’t send that broadcast.”

“Y-you do?”

Ms. Kimura nodded. “Like I said. Once I hear a name, it sticks with me. And the way that broadcast said your name, it felt like it was foreign to their lips. Rehearsed. Not the way a person would say their own name.” She leaned back in her chair once again. “I want you to know something, Akira Kurusu, leader of the infamous Phantom Thieves.”

“What’s that?”

Ms. Kimura sat up straight, locking eyes with Akira with a furrowed brow. “I trust you. It’s kinda like the name thing. Sometimes, I can just see a person and they just stick. I can see your soul, Akira Kurusu. And I know it’s a good one.”

Akira stood dumbfounded. He didn’t really know how to respond. He was honestly touched that somebody he’d barely spoken a word to trusted him so wholly. More than ever, he knew he had to win this game. How could he let down the people that trusted him so much?

“Now, go. Be young. Meet with your friend,” Ms. Kimura said, waving him off.

“Th-thank you,” was all Akira could find in his mind to say.

“And just know that if you ever need anything, do not hesitate to come to me.”

Akira simply nodded in agreement and appreciation, before turning and running back up the stairs to the doors leading out the classroom. Fukuya stood beside the door, waiting patiently for him to emerge.

“What was that about?” she asked.

“Oh, just...English stuff. She wants me to write an extra essay.” It was the quickest lie he could come up with. Akira mentally cursed himself for having to lie to her like that.

“Damn bro, that sucks,” she said. “Extra work after just the first week? She must really hate you.”

“No, I think it’s ‘cause she likes me, actually.”

“She has a funny way of showing it.”

Akira agreed, and he and Fukuya left the building to go get some lunch.

\---

While waiting for their food, Akira felt his phone go off. “You sure are Mr. Popular, huh?” Fukuya remarked as he pulled it out of his pocket to check the message. It was from Makoto, asking if he wanted to get lunch with her.

“Hey, do you mind if I invite a friend to lunch with us?” he asked.

“Sure, I guess. The more the merrier.”

He shot Makoto a text message inviting her to the sushi place, to which Makoto swiftly responded, saying she would head over there now.

“So who’s this friend you’re inviting, if you don’t mind me asking?” said Fukuya.

“Oh, it’s my friend Makoto,” Akira responded. “We went to high school together during my second year.”

“Ah, okay,” Fukuya said, fiddling with the chopsticks on the table.

Soon enough, Makoto arrived. She sat down at the table and Akira introduced her to Fukuya. Makoto extended a handshake to her, which Fukuya took after hesitating for a second. “I’m Makoto Niijima. Nice to meet you.”

“Aoi Fukuya,” she replied. “Likewise.”

The three of them made small talk while waiting for the waitress to come by and offer Makoto a menu. By the time Makoto had placed her order, Akira and Fukuya’s food was arriving. Makoto’s stomach growled as the waitress placed the plate of sushi in front of Akira.

“Mind if I have a bite of that?” she asked. “I haven’t eaten at all today.”

“Yeah, go ahead,” Akira replied. Makoto grabbed a spicy tuna roll off his plate with her chopsticks and brought it up to her mouth, placing her left hand beneath her chin to collect any falling crumbs.

Finally, Makoto’s actual food arrived, just as Akira and Fukuya were about done with their meals. Fukuya reached into her pocket and checked her phone. “Hey, I should be headin’ out,” she said. 

“So soon?” said Akira.

“Yeah, I got a presentation in History to do before 3 that I forgot about. It was nice meetin’ ya, Makoto.”

Makoto swallowed the bit of sushi she’d been chewing on and returned the pleasantry. Fukuya gave Morgana a couple head scratches before waving good-bye to Akira and heading up to the front to pay her bill.

While Makoto finished her food, Akira slipped Morgana his last piece of fatty tuna. After swallowing her last bite and wiping her mouth off with her napkin, Makoto turned to Akira and, rather matter-of-factly, said, “I don’t trust her.”

“Huh?” said Akira, looking up from the bag and over at Makoto. “Who? Fukuya?”

Makoto nodded. “She just...I don’t know, something about her feels off.”

“You don’t even know her, though,” Akira said defensively. Though admittedly, Akira felt something was off about her today, as well. She spoke quite a bit less than usual once Makoto had arrived, and she had ducked out rather suddenly. “She was acting kind of weird today. Maybe she’s just shy around new people?”

“Maybe,” Makoto said, but she didn’t sound entirely convinced.

After that awkward conversation, Akira felt it was best for them to part ways for the day. They each paid their bills and walked off in opposite directions. Akira felt bad for how the lunch had turned out. He wanted his new friend and his old friends to get along, but Makoto felt on edge around her. He hadn’t meant to get so defensive, especially since he had only just met her himself, but he felt compelled to stand up for her. It was kind of a rude thing for Makoto to say, too, upon first meeting her. 

Still, Akira decided to try and put the situation behind them. Makoto was important to him, as were all of the Phantom Thieves. He wasn’t about to let somebody he’d just met get in the way of their friendship. Yet, Fukuya had always seemed genuine to him. A bit brusque at times, but well-meaning, for sure.

These were the thoughts going through his head all day. Even on his commute home, he couldn’t shake the memory of that afternoon, how Fukuya had been acting strange, how Makoto was so quick to dismiss her. It was these thoughts that distracted him, allowing the figure stalking him from the back streets to approach him undetected, knocking him unconscious.


	8. Panic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so like, of all the chapters I have written so far (which is about 18 or 19), this is one of my favorites. I'm like weirdly proud of this. (If you can't tell I have a weird thing for giving Ryuji mental breakdowns lol). Hope you enjoy!

Ryuji paced back and forth in his small apartment bedroom, muttering curses under his breath. He bit his lip, as he often did when he was freaking out. He had a bad habit of doing so, and it caused him many lip bruises, especially during his track days with Kamoshida. Frantically, he pulled out his phone and dialed Akira’s number again. No luck. It went straight to voicemail.

“Damn it!” he sputtered, and threw his phone across the room. Luckily, it didn’t break, landing safely on his bed. Though, that didn’t quite provide the satisfaction Ryuji was yearning for, so he punched his door before scurrying over to his bed to pick up his phone again. He opened the Phantom Thieves chat.

 

**Ryuji Sakamoto:** Anybody found anything?

**Yusuke Kitagawa:** Not yet.

**Futaba Sakura:** I tried hacking into his phone’s GPS, but it’s blocked. His phone might be off.

**Ann Takamaki:** It’s not like him to just go off the grid like this.

**Makoto Niijima:** Hey, sorry. I’ve been in class all day. What’s going on?

**Ryuji Sakamoto:** Akira’s gone, dude. He’s just fucking gone.

**Makoto Niijima:** What?

**Haru Okumura:** Nobody’s seen him since last night. He’s not answering his phone.

**Makoto Niijima:** That’s not good.

**Ryuji Sakamoto:** You’re telling me, dude. I’m freaking the fuck out over here.

**Haru Okumura:** Calm down, Ryuji. We’ll find him. I’m sure of it.

 

But just telling him that wasn’t helping anything. Ryuji’s breathing continued to accelerate until he was full-on hyperventilating. He dug through his desk drawer and pulled out his inhaler, taking a few quick puffs to steady his breath. He dialed Akira’s phone again. No dice. His inbox was full, too. No doubt from Ryuji leaving so many panicked messages. He felt his face dampen with the onset of tears, but he blinked them away and rubbed his eyes with his sleeve.

 

**Ryuji Sakamoto:** I’m gonna go ask around in Shibuya if anyone’s seen him.

**Makoto Niijima:** Ryuji, it’s almost 11PM. It’s too dangerous to go out and look for him. Wait until tomorrow and we can go as a group.

**Ryuji Sakamoto:** Fuck that! He could be dead by tomorrow!

**Futaba Sakura:** “Joker’s strong enough to take care of himself. I doubt he’d get himself killed.”

**Futaba Sakura:** That’s what Mona said.

**Makoto Niijima:** Does Morgana know anything? He and Akira are hardly ever apart.

**Futaba Sakura:** I already asked him. But he said he fell asleep in Akira’s bag last night on the train.

**Futaba Sakura:** “When I woke up, I was just on the porch in front of Leblanc.” - Mona

**Yusuke Kitagawa:** Do you have any gaps in your memory, Morgana? To fall asleep in a bag on a train and wake up back home is quite a far stretch of distance.

**Futaba Sakura:** “Impossible! I would remember waking up from the wonderful dream I was having about lying on Lady Ann’s lap, ah, and she...wait, are you typing all of this out to them? Delete that immediately!! You’re sending it? NO!”

**Futaba Sakura:** Kekekeke.

**Futaba Sakura:** lkwjrhkbfnmw en,.dfsnbv

**Haru Okumura:** Futaba?

**Futaba Sakura:** Sorry. Morgana jumped on my face and knocked my phone out of my hand.

**Futaba Sakura:** I think he was trying to delete the message lol

**Ann Takamaki:** …

**Ryuji Sakamoto:** For fuck’s sake, guys. Can we focus?! Our leader is missing. My BEST FRIEND is missing!

**Yusuke Kitagawa:** Well, if Morgana did not black out and lose some of his memory, then it can be assumed he was taken out of the bag and placed where he woke up.

**Ann Takamaki:** That does seem the most likely.

**Ryuji Sakamoto:** Why are we worrying about the damn cat? He’s fine. We’re looking for Akira, here, guys.

**Makoto Niijima:** Ryuji. Calm. Down. We’re doing our best to figure out what happened to him.

**Ann Takamaki:** You don’t suppose Mr. Mask took him, did he?

**Makoto Niijima:** Maybe. He does have it out for us. Maybe this is his way of punishing us for not returning to our lives as Phantom Thieves.

**Haru Okumura:** But why would he out Akira as our leader if he just planned to kidnap him a few days later? It doesn’t add up, if you ask me.

**Makoto Niijima:** That is true.

**Ann Takamaki:** Makoto, you have police connections, right? Do you think you can find out if he’s been arrested or something? I mean he did confess to being the leader of the Phantom Thieves on live television.

**Ann Takamaki:** In the eyes of the public, at least.

**Makoto Niijima:** I can go down there tomorrow morning before work and try and ask, but even if they are holding him there, I doubt they would tell me.

 

Ryuji couldn’t blink back the tears this time. He sat on his bed and wiped the tears as they streamed down his face. It had been a while since he’d last honestly cried, but the thought that his best friend might be in jail, or worse, made it hard to fight the urge. He swallowed to clear his throat of the lump that was forming.

 

**Yusuke Kitagawa:** Ryuji, are you alright? You’ve been rather silent the last few minutes.

**Ryuji Sakamoto:** I’m fine. I’m fine. Definitely not crying. Don’t worry.

**Ann Takamaki:** Ryuji…

**Ryuji Sakamoto:** Seriously, I’m fine. I think I’m gonna go to bed, though. Or try. We HAVE to meet up tomorrow and look for him, though. No skipping out like last week with my idea. I don’t give a fuck if you have work or school or shit.

**Makoto Niijima:** That’s ENOUGH, Ryuji. I know you’re worried. We all are. But you need to settle down.

**Futaba Sakura:** I want to find him as much as you do, but Sojiro would KILL me if he found out I’d skipped school after making a big fuss about going back.

**Ryuji Sakamoto:** Man, whatever. Fuck you guys.

**Ryuji Sakamoto** has left the conversation.

 

Ryuji turned off his phone and chucked it at his desk. He made sure not to use all his strength this time to not break his phone. With an exasperated groan, he collapsed on his bed, spreading his arms and legs and staring at the ceiling. There was no way he was going to be able to sleep tonight. He was exhausted, sure, but his mind kept racing. There had to be  _ something _ he could do. Akira was out there somewhere, maybe lonely and cold or...dead. He shook the thought away. No. There was no way his bro could be dead.

After a while, he just couldn’t stand it anymore. Leaping off his bed, Ryuji grabbed his jacket and headed out of his apartment. So what if it was dangerous? Akira could be facing the same, or worse, danger right at that moment! He just couldn’t sit around and wait until morning. No, Ryuji had done enough waiting.

He made his way to the subway and took the train to Shibuya. The city was bright as hell at night, with so many neon signs and blinking lights. It was honestly a bit disorienting. It’d been awhile since he was last in Shibuya at night. He forced his way through the crowds, stopping at every business on Central Street asking if they’d seen Akira pass by at all, to no avail. They all said they hadn’t seen him since at least before the night he disappeared.

Fighting tears the entire time, he made his way back around and looked all around the central area of Shibuya. He checked the train stations and asked everyone in the Underground Mall if they’d seen him. It didn’t help that most of the shops were closed, and that Ryuji was getting more and more frantic. 

By 12:30, he still hadn’t made any progress. His thoughts were turning darker and darker, and his breathing was jagged and uneven. He reached into his pocket for his inhaler, but cursed under his breath with the realization that he’d left it at home. Finding a corner in the subway station, he slumped down and hugged his knees, shivering despite the temperate autumn climate.

He couldn’t stop the tears this time. He simply hid his head in his knees and sobbed. People in the station shot him concerned or judgmental glances, but none stopped to help him or see what was wrong. He mumbled to himself incoherently. His thoughts took a dark turn as a feeling came creeping in, an intrusive thought that he tried to push away, but couldn’t.

What if Akira wasn’t dead? What if he wasn’t missing?

What if he’d just left?

Ryuji couldn’t think of a logical reason why he would abandon them like that, after everything they’d been through, but the thought persisted anyway. Ryuji tried to mentally swat it away, but it wouldn’t leave.

What if Akira had just...gone away? Went on the lam to avoid the law? Just took the next train out of here and never looked back. Started a new life, in a new town, with a new best friend. The thought lingered inside him, an emptiness creeping into his heart. He suddenly found himself unable to stop crying.

_ God damn it, Ryuji. You’re such a pussy, _ he thought.  _ Crying over some dude. _

But he wasn’t some dude, and Ryuji knew it. It was  _ Akira. _ His bro, his best friend, the person who meant the most to him in his entire life. His leader, his mentor, his idol.

“Fuck,” he whispered to himself. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” He sniffed and tried to push away the tears, like he’d pushed away everything else, only to find himself unable to do anything but babble the word “fuck” over and over again between sobs.

“Ryuji!” came a voice from not too far away. He lifted his head up to see who’d called him, but his vision was blurry from the tears. He wiped his eyes with his sleeve and his vision cleared. He saw his friends -- all of them, even Morgana -- rushing toward him.

“There you are!” Makoto called. As the group approached him, Makoto bent down and put her arm around him. Yusuke removed his jacket and put it over Ryuji’s shoulders. It was only then that he realized he was still shivering. He hadn’t even noticed with all the sobbing and crying and abandonment issues he’d been dealing with.

“You had us worried sick!” Haru said. “We’ve been calling you and calling you! Don’t you ever pick up your phone?”

“I left it at home,” Ryuji croaked. He sniffed and tried to swallow the lump in his throat. “How did you guys find me?”

“You talked about going out looking for him,” said Ann. “So we figured you’d gone to do that.”

“We should get going,” said Makoto. “The last train is in a few minutes.”

“I say we all have a sleepover at Leblanc,” said Futaba. “With hot cocoa and movies.”

“Didn’t you say you had school tomorrow?” said Haru.

Futaba shrugged. “I’m sure Sojiro would understand if I skip  _ one _ day. To look for Akira.”

His friends continued talking like nothing had even happened, and it actually kind of calmed Ryuji. They’d found their friend -- the vulgar, aggressive, punk delinquent boy -- sniveling in a corner in the subway station, and they didn’t even bat an eye. They were just...supportive. Unlike his old friends from the track team, who would have laughed at him and called him a girl for crying like that.

Finally steadying his breath, Ryuji rose to his feet, and the group started towards the boarding area. Morgana jumped on Ryuji’s shoulder and patted him on the head. “We’ll find him,” he said. He said it with such conviction, that Ryuji almost believed him.

“Wait, guys,” said Futaba, stopping at turning to look at something at the other end of the station.

“We don’t have much time, Futaba,” said Makoto. “The last train is--”

“Guys. Just look.”

The group stopped and turned to find what Futaba was looking at.

It was one of the television screens in the station. The big one, on the wall furthest from the staircase. It was glowing an ominous snow white, with the familiar masquerade logo in the center.

“You’ve gotta be shittin’ me,” muttered Ryuji.


	9. The Amazon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** If you're wondering why this is Chapter 9, when I posted Chapter 9 last week, it's because I decided to combine chapters 4 and 5 because they were both on the shorter side, and I felt like this would smooth out the pacing a bit. Sorry for the confusion.

At this point in his life, Akira was no stranger to waking up in unfamiliar places tied to a chair. The last time, he’d found himself in a musty, underground bunker that served as his interrogation chamber. This time, however, he found himself in a warmly lit room, with luxurious royal red carpets and walls with gold highlights. 

His chair was in the corner. A queen sized bed sat against the back wall in the center of the room, covered with gold-speckled maroon sheets that perfectly matched the decor of the room. To his left, in the corner closest to him, sat a desk made of mahogany. There was no chair, Akira noticed. That must make it hard to write on. It occurred to him that he was likely sitting in the chair that came paired with the desk.

He overcame his grogginess much more quickly than in the interrogation room, indicating to him that he hadn’t been drugged this time. His head was pounding, but he was fully awake and aware of everything going on.

This time, the room was empty. No police officers, no cameras, no aggressive detectives forcing him to sign confessions. Just him, the bed, the desk, and two doors, one on either side of the room. He struggled against his binds, and found that the rope tied around his arms came undone rather easily. Either whoever kidnapped him was terrible at tying knots, or they wanted him to be able to get out of them.

Shaking the rope off of him and gently caressing the new rope burns his wrists had acquired, he surveyed the rest of the room. There was a window to the left of where he had been sitting, with burgundy curtains blocking any light from entering the room. He opened them, and shaded his eyes from the influx of natural light. After his eyes adjusted, he peered out the window to get a bearing of his surroundings. 

He was a lot higher up than he had anticipated. The city looked like a children’s playset from this height, the people and cars bustling along like insects. He could see the tall, industrial buildings of Shibuya a short distance away, confirming to Akira that he was still in Tokyo.

Feeling the onset of vertigo setting in, Akira shut the curtains. He squeezed his eyes shut until the dizziness faded, and then decided to check the two doors in the room. There was one on the left wall directly in the center, and there was one on the right wall, near the corner, closer to where the bed was. He checked the left door first, only to find it locked from the outside. He rammed the door with his shoulder a few times, but it only served to give Akira a bruised arm. The door refused to budge.

Giving up, he checked the other door nearest the bed, and found a bathroom. Bright white floor tiles and dim blue painted walls jumped out at him. He squinted at the harsh fluorescent light that cascaded from the ceiling when he flipped the switch. 

The bathroom came equipped with a toilet, a shower stall, and a sink counter with cupboards underneath. A large, rectangular mirror hung on the wall in front of the sink. He checked the cupboards and found a plethora of toiletries: toilet paper, tissues, body wash and shampoo, and even toothbrushes and toothpaste. How long was he expected to stay here?

Returning to the bedroom, he found something sitting on the bed. It was a bright red t-shirt and a pair of maroon plaid lounge pants, folded neatly and sitting in the center of the bed. Was he expected to sleep here? Maybe there would be something in the desk he could use to pick the lock on the door. Alas, however, there was nothing in the desk but a notepad and a few pens. Though, there was a paper with a list of phone numbers and extensions embedded into the bottom of one drawer. This must have been some kind of hotel. 

Upon closer inspection, Akira indeed noticed an outlet for a telephone line next to the desk, but no phone was attached to it. In fact, if this was a hotel room, it must have had most of its amenities removed prior to his arrival. There were indents in the carpet where an entertainment set likely once stood. The dust lines on the desk suggested that a telephone once sat in the corner of the desk. Akira understood the removal of the phone, but why go through the trouble of getting rid of a television and entertainment set, unless his captors planned to torture him to death with boredom?

Akira briefly considered escaping through the windows, but decided against it in the end. They’d likely taken precaution to ensure the window remained closed, and if that failed, they were far too high up to make an escape. One misstep would surely lead to Akira plummeting to the ground. He quickly decided trying to escape through the window was not a sound plan.

Deciding there was nothing left to do for now, Akira decided to use the bathroom given to him to take a shower. The water pressure was nice, and it reached a pleasantly warm temperature. He used some of the body wash and shampoo from underneath the sink, and grabbed the white towel on the rack next to the shower stall to dry off. He noticed some other useful things on the sink countertop: a hairbrush, a small glass cup, and some shaving cream and disposable razors. He gracefully accepted the hairbrush, and began brushing out the knots in his shaggy hair. He then brushed his teeth, and rinsed his mouth out with water.

Feeling as clean and refreshed as somebody in his situation likely could, he returned to the bedroom and put on the clothes that had been laid out for him. He collapsed onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. Wow, this bed was comfortable. For kidnappers, they sure knew how to treat a guy. He felt himself about to drift to sleep when a knock at the door snapped him awake.

“Kurusu,” a voice called his name from the other side of the door. It was a woman’s voice, no doubt, but it was deep and commanding. He pictured it coming from some kind of Amazon warrior. “Are you awake?”

“Who are you?” he asked, sitting up in the bed. “Why am I here?”

“I apologize for the intrusion, but it would be much easier to discuss things in person. May I come in?”

Akira hesitated. Awfully polite for a kidnapper. “Y-yeah,” he said. He heard the lock on the door click, and it suddenly occurred to him that he should have prepared himself by the door to escape the room once the door opened. He stood up in the bed and dug his feet into the floor, steadying his stance in case he had to fight his way out of here.

The door swung open and in stepped a long-haired woman wearing a white fur coat. Her straight hair reached down to the center of her back, its color matching the burgundy decor of the room. She had fierce red eyes and wore a hard-to-read expression. Akira’s mental image of an Amazon warrior was surprisingly accurate.

“Who are you?” he asked.

The Amazon closed the door behind her and turned back to face Akira, crossing her arms over her chest. He was suddenly stricken with a memory of Makoto. She sometimes stood in the exact same pose at their meetings. Thinking of his friends made his heart hurt. How long was he going to be here? When would he be able to see his friends again? First, he had to figure out who his kidnappers were and what they wanted. Unsure of how to call his Persona, he knew there would be no way to fight his way out of here.

“My name is Mitsuru Kirijo,” said the Amazon. “I am part of an unofficial branch of the Japanese police known as the Shadow Operatives. We deal with and respond to any Shadow and Persona-related activity.

“P-Persona?” Akira said, eyes widened.

Mitsuru nodded. “We always had a hunch that the Phantom Thieves over in Tokyo were Persona users. I’d sent some of our operatives to investigate last year, but they returned with nothing concrete. But when the Phantom Thieves responded to that broadcast, we knew they were still active.”

“You were the ones who sent that broadcast?”

Mitsuru shook her head. “No, that just happened to be a fortunate coincidence. It drew the Thieves out of hiding. And then you, their leader, gave yourself up. It really made our job easy, if I’m being honest.”

“That wasn’t me in that broadcast!” Akira confessed. “I was set up.”

“Oh?” said Mitsuru, a genuine sense of disbelief clear on her face. Her expression was far more readable now that she had begun speaking to him directly. “So then, you’re  _ not _ the leader of the Phantom Thieves? And you’re  _ not _ a Persona-user?”

“What if I am?” Akira stuttered, trying his best to feign innocence. “What would you do to me?”

Mitsuru gave Akira a warm smile that would have been kind of comforting if not for the fact that this woman had abducted him. “Peace, Kurusu. I am not your enemy. I mean you no harm.” She walked over to him. Though she herself was not as tall as he was, even in her high heels that she walked surprisingly well in, her presence towered over the boy like a tidal wave, tipping over and beginning to crash down onto the shore. Her words said peace, yet her demeanor still had Akira nervous. “If you are a Persona user. I simply would like to have a discussion with you.”

“A discussion about what?” Akira stumbled over his words. He tried his best to keep his cool, but Mitsuru was incredibly intimidating.

“About you. Your Persona. Your methods of changing people’s hearts.”

Akira gulped. “And after that?”

“You’ll be free to go.”

“Really?”

“If you so choose.”

“And if I were...to refuse?”

“Then we will continue to provide you hospitality until you comply.”

“Sounds like there’s no real incentive for me to tell you anything, then. If I can just keep living in here.”

“Of course,” Mitsuru said. Her tone was conversational, but her voice was still commanding. “We’re not animals _. _ You may stay here as long as you like. However, you will not be able to leave, or have any contact with the outside world.” She leaned in so her face was merely inches away from Akira’s, her high heels helping her reach Akira’s height without much resistance. He felt so small compared to her. “I wonder how your friends will fare against the person who sent that broadcast without their leader.” She flashed Akira a confident smirk, and then turned to walk out the door.

“If you decide you want to comply,” she said over her shoulder as the door swung open. “Contact me through this.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out and old-style walkie-talkie and set it on the desk.

The door closed behind her, and Akira heard the door lock with a  _ click. _


	10. Anxiety

Makoto stared at the TV screen in horror, suddenly violently aware of her trembling. She willed her hands to stop shaking, but they wouldn’t listen. Looking over at her friends, she saw that they all wore the same terrified expression as her: mouth agape and eyes wide, staring at the screen in front of them.

“For real?” Ryuji huffed. “Here? Now?”

“It is almost 1 o’clock,” said Yusuke. “Why on Earth would he send a message now? Half of Tokyo is asleep at this hour.”

Futaba spun in circles and gasped, pointing to something behind the group. “Look!”

They all turned and saw...nothing of particular interest. People hurried to catch the last trains as if nothing were amiss. An announcement played informing them that the last train for the night would be departing in five minutes.

“What?” said Ryuji. “I don’t see nothin’.”

“ _ Exactly, _ ” Futaba exclaimed. “None of the other TVs are showing Mr. Mask’s logo.”

“So what does this mean?” Haru asked.

The group turned to face the TV displaying the logo. “It means,” Futaba said. “He knows where we are.”

“He’s spying on us?” Makoto said, her hands still quaking.

Ryuji spun around in circles, jerking his head every which way, looking for something that could indicate where or how they were being observed.

“But how?” Ann said. “You destroyed the infected computer, didn’t you Futaba?”

“Of course,” Futaba stammered. “I made sure it was good and broken.”

“Can confirm,” Ryuji added.

“If he can hack into the TVs in the station,” Haru started, “it shouldn’t be too far of a stretch to suggest he could hack into the security cameras, too.”

“Guys,” Makoto shushed. “It’s talking.”

The group hushed and listened in to the message coming through the speakers.

“I feel I’ve given you ample time, Phantom Thieves,” came the same distorted voice that had sounded on all of the prior messages. “Yet not a single corrupted heart has been changed. I had hoped it would not come to this.” The voice hesitated, and then came a sound through the speakers that took Makoto a moment to decipher. It was hard to tell through the distortion, but it sounded like a long, exasperated sigh. “But you leave me no choice. I know who you are, Thieves. I know all about each and every one of you. I know who you care about the most. And I have ways of making you comply.”

The screen cut off rather abruptly after that. The lights dimmed, and a chime played throughout the station.

“Shit, that was the last train,” Ryuji said.

“I’ll call Sojiro to come pick us up,” Futaba said.

“For real?! There’s no way we’ll all fit in that tiny little car.”

“I can call Sis, have her take the van.”

“We should return to Leblanc and discuss this further,” said Yusuke.

“I agree,” said Morgana. “We need to come up with a plan. To find Joker, and to deal with Mr. Mask.”

“Ways of making us comply,” muttered Haru. “He’s going after the people we care about?”

Makoto’s thoughts drifted to her sister. Sae was more than capable of taking care of herself, but Mr. Mask seemed omniscient, omnipresent, omnipotent. Makoto was sure he had ways to get to Sae. The thought of her sister being used as blackmail against her terrified Makoto, though it also made her furious. How  _ dare _ he try to get to her through her sister. How  _ dare _ he even  _ consider _ laying a hand on her. The anger rose inside her, bubbling up until it boiled over, overtook her fear, until all she was left with was hatred. 

Makoto’s hands were still trembling.

\---

When Sae came to pick the group up, they were all solemnly quiet. Though they didn’t say anything, there was an aura of determination surrounding them. This time, Mr. Mask had gone too far. He’d threatened those that they cared about, and that was crossing the line.

“So is anybody going to explain to me what exactly is going on here?” said Sae. She did her best to hide her concern, but Makoto could tell she was worried by her tone of voice. She always raised the inflection slightly on the last word or so of her sentence whenever she was anxious. It was slight, slight enough that anybody who didn’t know her would assume she was being cross with them. She did have a tendency to raise her voice a bit while worried, too.

“Akira’s missing,” Makoto started. “I think I explained that part to you already.” Sae nodded, edging Makoto to continue.

“I got pissed and stormed out to find him,” Ryuji admitted. His voice was very matter-of-fact, but the embarrassment and shame he felt bled through in his pursed lips and apologetic eyes. “Then I...kinda had a panic attack in the station.”

“That’s when we found him,” Haru said. “We all went out looking for him after he didn’t respond to our messages.”

“Make a right over here,” Futaba instructed. She had been sitting in the front seat, giving Sae directions on how to get to Yongen-Jaya by car. They’d rarely driven there from Shibuya, usually getting back and forth via subway, so Sae was unfamiliar with the route.

“Okay,” Sae said. “So that explains why you guys were out in Shibuya at 1 in the morning, on a school night no less.” She shot Futaba a look, which Futaba returned with a nervous smile. “But it doesn’t explain why you sounded so worried on the phone.”

Makoto looked down at her feet, taking a deep breath to calm herself down. She was still furious, but now that she’d had some time to settle, the terror crept back in. She’d already lost her dad. She couldn’t lose Sae, too. Makoto debated for a minute whether or not to tell her exactly what Mr. Mask had said, or if she should simply tell her that there was a message, and that it indicated to them that they were being spied on.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, Ann spoke up before she had come to a conclusion.

“There was another broadcast,” she said. Makoto saw Sae’s eyes widen in the rear-view mirror. “But it was just the one of the TVs this time, and it was in the station, not Shibuya Crossing.”

Sae cocked an eyebrow. “That’s strange. Why would he try to send you guys a message in the dead of night? With only one TV…” She trailed off, answering her question as she spoke it. She shot Makoto a glance in the rear-view. Makoto nodded, confirming her suspicions.

“We’re being tracked.”

The car fell silent, with nothing but the hum of the engine sounding in the dead of the night. Sae opened her mouth, but hesitated, as if pondering whether or not to ask a question she may not want to learn the answer to. But she asked it anyway. “What did the broadcast say?”

The air in the car became tense. Nobody really wanted to say. Makoto was still trying to process it herself.

“He knows who we are,” she said. “And...we think he’s going to be coming after the people we care about.”

Sae slammed on the brakes, jolting everybody in their seats. Ryuji held onto Morgana so he didn’t go flying into the back of Futaba’s seat. “What?” Sae said. She shook her head to regain composure, and then eased back on the gas. Makoto was silently thankful that there were no other cars on the road at this time.

“You mean...me?” Sae said.

“My mom, too,” said Ryuji.

“Sojiro…” muttered Futaba.

Yusuke and Haru glanced at each other in the back seat. It was only then that it occurred to Makoto that they no longer really had family that they cared about like that. They all shared a look with Ann. “My parents are never around,” she said. “So it’s not like we’re really close. I doubt he’d try to go after my folks, especially since they’re not even in Japan right now.”

“Similarly, I have no real kin on my own,” Yusuke said. “My mother passed away long ago, and I never knew my father.”

Haru simply sighed, leaning against her arm and staring out the car window.

“We just need to make sure you guys stay safe,” Makoto said, returning her attention to Sae. “Come stay with us at Leblanc tonight.”

Sae sighed. “I suppose.”

“Hey, could you let me off at this next light?” Ryuji said. “My apartment’s just a few blocks away. I wanna make sure my mom’s okay.”

“I’ll go with you,” Yusuke said. “In case you run into trouble.”

Sae nodded, pulling over and letting Ryuji and Yusuke out of the car.

“Call us if anything happens,” Makoto said. “And for god’s sake, Ryuji, keep your phone on.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ryuji said with a smirk. He slid the van door closed, and he and Yusuke made off down the darkened street towards his apartment.

Pulling back out onto the road, Sae was led by Futaba the direction of Yongen-Jaya. Makoto slid over into the now-vacant seat next to the window and leaned her head against the glass. She felt her consciousness start to fade. It had been an exhaustingly long day. And the days to come were just going to be even more tiring.

She was jostled from her slumber by Sae pulling up to Leblanc. “You guys go ahead inside. I’m going to find a parking spot and will meet you guys back here.”

“I’m going with you,” Makoto said groggily, stretching herself out and letting out a sleepy moan. She got out of the car and climbed into the passenger seat. Ann slammed the van door shut, and Sae took off to find a place to park.

Makoto wasn’t sure how much help she would be if something did happen, given how tired she was, but it was still comforting just being with Sae, keeping her in sight. It was comforting just knowing that she was okay.

A buzzing in her pocket prevented her from slipping back into unconsciousness. She pulled out her phone and saw a new message from the Phantom Thieves group chat.

 

**Ryuji Sakamoto:** Yusuke and I just made it home. My mom’s home and asleep. I don’t wanna leave her alone tonight, though. We’ll meet up with you guys tomorrow morning at Leblanc.

 

Makoto sleepily typed a reply before returning her phone to her pocket. “Everything okay?” Sae asked. Makoto nodded.

“Yup, just Ryuji letting us know he and his mom are home safe.”

“That’s good.”

Finally, Sae found a place and pulled over to park. She and Makoto got out of the car and made their way back to the cafe. The backstreets of Yongen-Jaya were pitch dark, and Makoto had to use the flashlight on her phone to light the way.

“Makoto,” said Sae.

“Yeah, sis?”

Sae reached over and put an arm around Makoto’s shoulder. “Thanks for looking out for me.”

Makoto nodded. “You’d do the same for me.”

“Of course.”

The two of them walked in silence on the way back to Leblanc. When they arrived, they could see Haru and Ann inside, sitting in the booth with Morgana resting on a chair in front of the table. They entered through the unlocked door, and the chime of the bell above the door made Ann jump.

“Where’s Futaba?” said Makoto.

“She went to check on Sojiro,” said Ann. “She said she was probably going to just stay there tonight.”

Makoto nodded, not really sure how else to respond. The tiredness had started to take over. She sat down at one of the booths with her back against the wall, and closed her eyes. She heard somebody lock the front door, and at that, she finally felt safe enough to drift off to sleep.


	11. Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **(Oops sorry I totally forgot to update yesterday, I was at a wedding most of the afternoon and totally forgot by the time we got back, sorry!! Happy Holidays, y'all!)**

#####  Akira spent a good while just staring at the walkie-talkie, unable to decide on his next course of action. Should he tell Mitsuru everything? Should he tell her _anything_? He wasn’t sure how trustworthy she could be. She seemed to be genuine, but who knew? That could have just been an act. She did kidnap him, after all. How trustworthy could she really be?

He decided to sleep on it. He had to come up with some way to test Mitsuru, find out if he can trust her. Then he would have to decide whether or not it was a good idea to tell her about his time as the Phantom Thieves.

He had to act quick, though. Every moment spent in here was a moment away from his friends, who were still facing some very real and immediate danger. Without their leader, they could be hopeless. Akira wanted to put more faith in his friends that they could act autonomously without him. They had before, when Akira had been incarcerated, but that was two years ago. They were closer than ever back then. Now, though they still obviously cared for one another, they were nowhere near as tight as they were back then. In fact, if it hadn’t been for Akira returning to Tokyo, his friends may have never even seen each other again.

The thought of his friends drifting apart began to depress him again, and he crawled into bed and tried his best not to think about them. First, he had to figure out if Mitsuru could be trusted or not. Then he would worry about his friends.

Though he was exhausted mentally, sleep did not come until very late in the night.

\---

It was nice not to be awoken by an alarm in the morning, but by the gentle light of the sun streaming in through the cracks in the curtains. Instinctively, he reached for his phone, only to have the memories of yesterday come rushing back to him. That’s right. He didn’t have his phone. He wasn’t in his attic home at Leblanc. He was in some kind of fancy prison.

He sat up in the large bed and stretched his arms upwards, letting out a sleepy yawn. He looked around the room again. Nothing had changed. He didn’t know why he’d expected something to be different, but everything in the room was exactly how he’d left it. Not that there was much in the room to move anyway.

Akira climbed out of bed and stumbled into the room’s bathroom. He flipped on the lightswitch and noticed that something  _ had _ changed. The towel he’d used from his shower last night was replaced with a fresh one, the floors had been dried and the bathmat changed. The cup he’d used to rinse his mouth out after brushing was cleaned and sparkling, and a change of clothes had been left for him on the counter next to the sink.

They weren’t his own clothes, the ones he’d changed out of last night. Those were nowhere in sight, instead he found an outfit somewhat akin to hospital scrubs. It was a dull greyish blue, with nothing but a simple shirt and pants with an elastic waistband and a drawstring. Akira was a little concerned that somebody had been in the room last night while he slept, but he seemed to be unharmed, so he decided it wasn’t an issue.

Akira went about his daily business and then slipped on the new clothes. He couldn’t exactly say they were uncomfortable, but the thin material of them had him feeling exposed. He returned to the bedroom and immediately his stomach growled. It had been a while since his last meal. God, what he wouldn’t give for some of Sojiro’s curry right now. The things you take for granted until they’re no longer available to you.

He picked up the walkie talkie and pressed the TALK button. He hesitated. What was he going to do? Order room service? This place may look like a fancy hotel room, but he was still imprisoned here. His captors had no obligation to feed him. Though Mitsuru did say that they would continue to give him their hospitality, so maybe they would give him food, too. She had said they weren’t “monsters.”

Akira pursed his lips and took his finger off the button. Almost immediately, he heard a sound of static for a second, and then Mitsuru’s voice came through the speaker. “Yes, Kurusu? Are you ready to talk?”

Akira furrowed his brow. “I’m hungry,” he said into the device.

“Ah, I figured as much. It’s likely been over 24 hours since you last ate. I’ll come and get you. We can eat together.”

She was  _ awfully _ polite. It was hard to believe she was capable of such crimes as kidnapping and imprisonment. After a few moments, there was a knock at his door. “Are you decent?” Mitsuru’s voice came from the other side of the door.

“Yeah,” Akira responded. He heard a  _ click _ as the door unlocked and Mitsuru opened the door, giving Akira a view into the world beyond his room. It really did look like a fancy hotel, or some kind of condo. It looked as though they were in a two-room suite, just with Akira being locked inside one of the rooms. In the other room he saw another bed and desk, but also a TV, a dining table, and a kitchenette. 

Mitsuru smiled at him genuinely and ushered him into the other room. With another cautious glance around the room, he hesitantly stepped forward past the doorway and into the other room. Mitsuru motioned for him to sit down at the table, and stepped into the kitchen. “How do you like your eggs?” she asked.

“Uhh,” Akira stuttered. He wasn’t prepared for such a normal question. Mitsuru spoke in such a conversational tone that it caught Akira off guard. “Scrambled, I guess?”

“Sounds good,” she chimed. Her voice was nowhere near as intimidating as it had been the previous night. It was slightly off-putting, but in a sense, strangely comforting. He couldn’t help but relax when being spoken to in such a friendly way. And she was cooking eggs for him.

This was the weirdest kidnapping ever.

“Can I ask you something?” Akira said. Mitsuru nodded, not looking away from the stove. The smell of cooking eggs wafted into Akira’s nose, and though it wasn’t curry, the homey smell of breakfast reminded him of Leblanc. “Why did you kidnap me? If all you wanted was information, why didn’t you just come and ask me directly?”

“My apologies,” Mitsuru said, a small chuckle in her voice. “That was Akihiko’s fault. He’s another member of the Shadow Operatives, and a close longtime friend of mine. He’s sweet at heart, but he does most of his thinking with his muscles. I told him to retrieve you and bring you here to speak with you, but it seems he got a bit carried away.”

“No kidding,” Akira said, rubbing the spot on the back of his head where he was struck.

“Is orange juice okay?” Mitsuru asked.

“Uh...yeah, that sounds good.”

Mitsuru turned away from the eggs for a moment and pulled a carton of orange juice out of the fridge behind her. “Ice?” she asked.

“Sure.”

She plopped a few ice cubes from a tray in the freezer into two glasses and poured the juice into both of them. She quickly returned to the stove, scrambling the eggs a bit more and turning off the burner. She got out two plates from the cabinets next to the fridge and slid some of the eggs onto both of the plates. With the plates in hand, she walked over to the table and set both of them down in front of Akira. She then returned to the kitchenette for the orange juice, grabbing some silverware on the way back.

Mitsuru grabbed some of the salt and pepper that was on the table and shook some of it over his eggs. She stabbed some of the eggs with her fork and brought them to her mouth. Akira simply sat at the table, fork in hand, eyeing the eggs suspiciously. “Go on,” Mitsuru said, swallowing the bite of food she’d had in her mouth. “They’re not poisoned. Just scrambled.”

Cautiously, Akira pierced and egg with his fork and brought it up to his mouth. It certainly smelled delicious. He took his bite of eggs, and his suspicions immediately dissipated. There was no way something so tasty could be poisonous. Besides, Mitsuru had taken a bite of them, too. He grabbed the salt and pepper and seasoned his eggs just as Mitsuru had, and the two of them ate their breakfast in silence.

When they had finished, Mitsuru wiped her mouth with her napkin, and looked at Akira expectantly. “So,” she said. “Are you willing to talk with me now?”

“I’m not sure,” Akira said. “I want to know if I can trust you. Not poisoning me when you easily could have is hardly grounds to be trusted completely.”

Mitsuru nodded. “I see, that does make sense. I suppose I do owe you more of an explanation.” She grabbed the plates and walked them over to the sink in the kitchenette, then returned and did the same with the glasses. When she returned, she sat down in front of Akira, and took a deep breath. “So, ask me anything. What do you want to know?”

_ Everything _ , Akira wanted to say. But he didn’t even know what  _ everything _ was. He already knew the basics: Mitsuru was from an underground government organization called the Shadow Operatives, who hunted Shadows and dealt with Persona-related affairs. But that was about it. He didn’t know  _ why _ they were hunting Shadows (outside of the obvious reason that they’re dangerous), or what exactly “Persona-related affairs” entailed. He had so many questions to ask Mitsuru that he didn’t even know where to really begin.

“I guess...I want to know everything that you know. Who are the Shadow Operatives? What’s their goal? How do you hunt Shadows and why? How do you even find Shadows outside the--” he cut himself off. He was about to say “Metaverse,” but Mitsuru had given no indication thus far that she knew of the Metaverse, and he wasn’t about to give her any information before he was sure she could be trusted.

Mitsuru caught his blunder and leaned in towards him. “Outside the...what?”

“Answer my questions first, and then maybe I’ll answer yours.”

Mitsuru chuckled, and leaned back. “You’re rather confident, aren’t you? It’s almost as if you’ve been interrogated before.”

Akira furrowed his brow. “So, are you going to answer my questions or not?”

With a smirk, Mitsuru leaned her chair back, crossing her legs and folding her arms over her chest. “Fine. The Shadow Operatives are a hidden branch of the Japanese government. They’re funded by the Kirijo Group, an organization founded by my grandfather, Kouetsu Kirijo.”

The Kirijo Group? Akira faintly remembered hearing that name before.

“My grandfather...studied Shadows. He experimented on them. It...well, let’s just say it didn’t end well. An accident happened, and...many people lost their lives. Because of my grandfather, Shadows now roam the world. They’re mostly dormant, but they pop up every now and again. That’s why I formed the Shadow Operatives, to find Shadow threats and eliminate them, before they can cause too much harm.”

“I see,” Akira said, though the exposition dump was quite a lot to take in.

“As for how,” Mitsuru continued. “We have a team of Persona users that we send in to fight the Shadows.”

“A team of Persona users, huh?” Akira wasn’t aware that Persona users could exist outside the Metaverse. Not only that, but he hadn’t expected some to have existed outside of the dark game that Yaldabaoth had them playing a few years ago. “So what does this have to do with me?”

“You’re a Persona user,” Mitsuru said.

“That has yet to be confirmed or denied,” interjected Akira.

Mitsuru smirked. “Very true.”

“So that’s your whole deal? You just...fight shadows?”

“Well, we don’t  _ just _ fight them. We study them, as well. And Persona users, too. We’re trying to pinpoint exactly what Shadows and Personas are, how the came about, what their purpose is.”

“I see.” Akira leaned back in his hair and crossed his arms. “How exactly do you study Shadows and Persona users.”

“In the past, my grandfather used inhumane experiments on shadows and people to learn more about them. He actually managed to artificially give non-Persona users the power to wield Personas.”

Akira’s eyes widened at that remark. Artificial Personas? Was that even possible?

“However,” Mitsuru continued, “I refuse to make the same mistakes as my grandfather. The only studying we do is observation, and well, what we’re doing now.”

“You call this humane? You kidnapped me and locked me in a room.”

“And I just made you eggs. As I said before, you will be treated with hospitality as long as you stay here. And your kidnapping was meant to a last-ditch effort to get you here. Like I said, Akihiko tends to think with his biceps before his brain.”

Akira let out a sigh. “But I suppose you’re not going to let me leave until I tell you what I know, is that right?”

“If you’re truly as innocent as you say you are, then you have nothing to hide.”

Akira pursed his lips. Should he trust her? Akira had always been a good judge of character, and Mitsuru didn’t seem like a bad person. She seemed like someone who was forced to grow up too quickly, who has experienced so much pain and hardship that it even showed in her smile. Akira wanted to trust her, he really did, but the fact that he was forcefully taken away from his home, his friends, sort of sullied that trustworthy image Mitsuru had shown him.

“I want to trust you,” he said. “I want to tell you everything. I want to help you, so that you might be able to help me. But…” He trailed off, unable to find what he wanted to say.  _ Tell me one more thing to make me trust you? Prove to me beyond a shadow of a doubt that you are who you say you are, that you’re not going to hurt me or my friends, or use the information I give you for nefarious purposes?  _ No, how could he say that?

“If it helps,” Mitsuru said, interrupting his train of thought. “I, myself, am a Persona user.”

Akira cocked an eyebrow. “Really?” he said warily. “Can you...show me?”

Mitsuru shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said. “As a member of the Shadow Operatives, I’m under oath not to use my Persona unless it’s necessary.”

“I see,” Akira said. “Well, I feel that it’s necessary for you to show me your Persona in order to trust you.”

Mitsuru nodded. “If that’s what you wish. I will show you,  _ after _ you tell me what you know.”

With a furrowed brow, Akira let out a sigh. It seemed Mitsuru wasn’t going to let up anytime soon. 

At his wit’s end, it appeared that Akira had no choice. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll tell you everything.”


	12. A Moment's Reprieve

Herself unable to sleep, Haru listened to the droning noise of Mako-chan’s snoring. Initially, it had been a hindrance to her attempted slumber, but eventually it became a sort of white noise that she could easily tune out. That was when it became apparent to her that that wasn’t what was keeping her awake.

_ I know who you care about most. And I have ways of making you comply.  _ That was what Mr. Mask’s message had said. Those they cared about most. She cared for her friends, of course, more than anything, but something told her that wasn’t who Mr. Mask was referring to. Ryuji had immediately thought of his mother, Mako-chan of her sister, and Futaba of her father figure. But Haru didn’t have anybody like that, at least, not anymore.

Her mind immediately went to her father when she heard that message. Kunikazu Okumura was not a good man. He was an evil, reprehensible demon who used and abused others for personal gain. In that respect, Haru loathed that man. But that man was not her father. That man had stopped being her father long ago. Her father had once been a kind man, a man who cared about Haru deeply.

Thinking about her father only made her sad. She let out a deep sigh and shifted around in her booth, trying to get comfortable enough to sleep, to no avail. The seat of the bench was cold and hard, and it wasn’t even long enough for her to lay out on.

“Can’t sleep?” came a whispered voice from somewhere beside her. She turned to see Ann slumped down into the booth next to her, leaning over the back of the bench.

“Oh, hi, Ann-chan. Sorry, did I wake you?”

“Nah,” Ann responded. “I haven’t been able to sleep. Too much on my mind.”

“Same here.”

“We gotta figure this Mr. Mask situation out fast. Poor Makoto and Ryuji are freaking out.”

“Futaba, too,” Haru said. “She’s probably watching over Sojiro-san right now.”

“Yeah.”

“What about you, Ann-chan? Aren’t you worried about your parents?”

Ann shrugged. “I mean, I guess. It’s not like we’re close or anything. My parents aren’t even really around that much anymore.”

“Oh?”

Ann nodded. “My parents are fashion designers. They’re in Milan right now for some expo or something.”

“I see.”

Ann stood up from her booth and stretched. “God, my back hurts. The benches sure don’t make comfortable beds.” She noticed Morgana, curled up on the counter, and went over and poked him. “Psst, hey, Morgana,” she whispered. The cat’s ears perked up and he opened one eye.

“What is it? I’m trying to sleep.”

“Do you think Akira would mind if I slept on his bed? These booths are way uncomfy.”

Morgana sighed. “I doubt it. Plus, it’s not like he’s here, anyway. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

“Great! Thanks, cat!”

Morgana mumbled something before returning his head to its former position and falling back asleep.

Ann walked over to Haru’s booth and offered her a hand. “C’mon,” she said.

“C’mon, what?” Haru said, confused and, admittedly, a little fluster by the implications of Ann’s cryptic invitation.

“Come upstairs with me. You can sleep on the futon. It’s gotta be more comfortable than the booths.”

“O-oh, right, of course.” She took Ann’s hand as the blonde helped her up from her unforgiving makeshift bed, and followed her upstairs into Akira’s bedroom.

\---

In Yusuke’s mind, Ryuji was acting a tad overzealous. Ironic, that, for it was usually he himself that had a flair for the dramatics. Ryuji grabbed a long wooden baseball bat from his room and brought his chair out into the hallway, setting it next to his mother’s bedroom door.

“I’m gonna keep watch,” he said. “You go ahead and get some sleep. Take my bed.”

“Whatever for?” Yusuke asked. “Your mother is safe for now. You should get some rest while you can.”

“I ain’t takin’ any chances, man. If that bastard can hack security cams, he sure as hell can pick a lock.”

Yusuke sighed. It was apparent that Ryuji could not be reasoned with in this respect. He cared so deeply about his mother that he was willing to sacrifice his own well-being for her safety. It was admirable, in some respects, but also quite naïve. Nevertheless, if he couldn’t be reasoned with, it could not be helped. Yusuke retired to the bedroom, letting Ryuji know to wake him should he feel too tired and that he would take over. Ryuji nodded in understanding, and then took his position in the hallway, bat at the ready.

Yusuke fell asleep quickly upon crawling onto Ryuji’s bed. It was far softer than he would have imagined Ryuji’s bed to be, and it wasn’t long before he had drifted off into slumber.

He awoke, startled and disoriented, to a loud crash. Quickly hopping out of bed, he opened the door and rushed in the direction of the noise. He reached the kitchen, seeing Ryuji, leaning against the fridge with broken glass at his feet.

“Ryuji!” Yusuke exclaimed, rushing to his friend’s aid. “What happened?”

Ryuji groaned and wiped his hand across his face. “I was just...getting a drink of water, and I stumbled and dropped the damn cup.”

“You are sleep deprived, my friend. Get to bed. I shall take over from here.”

Suddenly, the lights overhead clicked on, and the boys both shielded their eyes from the abrupt brightness.

“Ryuji, is that you? Everything okay?”

Ryuji’s mother stepped into the kitchen doorway, herself squinting in the light. She was a tall woman of moderate beauty, with long dark hair and fair skin. Her eyes were half shut and she rocked as if she were about to collapse at any second. Yusuke noted that she would likely be a fine candidate for a painting, though he suspected Ryuji would strangle him if he ever said such.

“Ah, Ms. Sakamoto, I presume,” Yusuke said, bowing in her direction. “My name is Yusuke Kitagawa. I am an acquaintance of your son Ryuji’s.”

Ryuji’s mother stared blankly at Yusuke for a moment, her sleepy brain still processing Yusuke’s eloquent speech patterns. Finally shaking herself of her grogginess, she stuttered a salutation in return.

“Hey, mom. Sorry to wake you. I just dropped a glass. I’ll clean it up, don’t worry.”

“Honey, it’s three in the morning. What are you even doing up so late?”

“School project,” Yusuke lied.

Ryuji shot Yusuke a glance that read, “I don’t even go to school anymore, dumbass!” Yusuke shrugged and returned with a look of, “It was the first thing I could think of. My apologies.”

Yusuke’s lie seemed to appease Ms. Sakamoto’s worries, however, as she simply gave them a sleepy nod. “Alright,” she said. “But don’t stay up too late. It’s a school night.” She turned to return to her room, but Ryuji called out for her to wait.

“What?” she said, turning back around. Ryuji carefully maneuvered around the broken glass at his feet and hopped over to his mother, throwing his arms around her and pulling her into a hug.

“I love you,” he said. Ms. Sakamoto smiled and hugged back.

“Love you, too, honey. Now go get some sleep.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

It was truly endearing to see Ryuji act in such a foreign way. He seemed a completely different person, in stark contrast to the vulgar, agressive brute Yusuke had come to know. The sight simply radiated compassion and happiness, a feat that brought Yusuke to smile. He couldn’t help but wish he’d been able to hug his own mother like this. A new idea for a painting came to mind, and Yusuke made sure to store that mental picture in his head for later.

Ryuji’s mother returned to her room, nearly stumbling over the chair Ryuji had left by her door. After they saw her door shut, Yusuke picked up the bat from the floor near the chair and sat down. “Go,” he ordered Ryuji. “Get some sleep, my friend.”

Ryuji started to mumble in protest, but his own incoherence must have changed his mind, as he then returned to his room to sleep. Despite offering to keep guard in Ryuji’s place, Yusuke still felt himself drifting off to sleep once again.


	13. Trigger

Akira told Mitsuru everything: about the Metaverse, how he and his friends got their Personas, becoming the Phantom Thieves, the game with Yaldabaoth, and so on. Mitsuru listened intently, nodding along and scribbling onto a notepad. He even told her about the trouble with Mr. Mask, though Mitsuru must have known most of it, with the broadcasts being public. When he was finished, Akira realized how good it felt to get everything off his chest. He didn’t like feeling that he couldn’t trust anybody; it was cathartic to let that go and just confess everything that had happened.

“I see,” Mitsuru said, once Akira was done talking. “So this ‘Metaverse’ is where all of your Persona-related activity occurred? You couldn’t summon your Personas in the real world whatsoever, is that right?”

Akira nodded.

“Interesting,” she said, writing more notes down on her pad.

“So you can summon Personas in the real world?” Akira asked.

Mitsuru nodded. “Of course. That is how my friends and I used our Personas, granted only during the Dark Hour.”

“The Dark Hour?”

“It’s a long story,” Mitsuru said. “I’ll tell it to you sometime, but not today. Today we have work to do.” She clicked her pen shut and closed her notepad, standing up and offering her hand to Akira. “Come with me.”

“Where are we going?” Akira asked, taking Mitsuru’s hand as she pulled him out of his seat.

“I want to test your Persona’s abilities.” Mitsuru led him past the kitchenette to a door that looked like the room’s exit. It had a peephole and information about fire escapes on it. So they  _ were _ in some kind of fancy hotel. Mitsuru opened the door and led Akira out into a long hallways, with more hotel rooms on either side of the hall. It reminded him a bit of Shido’s palace. 

Though, when Mitsuru turned a corner, the place stopped looking so much like a hotel. The warm burgundy carpeting abruptly ended, giving way to harsh gray tile. His bare feet touched the hard floor and he shivered, the cold seeping into him through the tile. In front of them was a large, round metal door that took up the entire width of the hallway, with a card reader sitting to the side of it. Mitsuru pulled a badge out of her pocket and scanned it. The door made a sound like compressed air being pushed outward as it slowly began to open for them. They stepped inside, and Akira looked around the area in awe. 

They were in another hallway, or perhaps the same one, but instead of hotel rooms on either side of the hall, there were large glass windows, peering into empty rooms with blank white walls and floors. Machinery sat underneath the windows, control panels, Akira guessed, for the empty white rooms. Akira considered asking Mitsuru what the rooms were used for, but the determined look on her face made it clear to him that he shouldn’t distract her.

There were only four of the white rooms, and after passing them, there was an intersection in the hallway. Up ahead Akira could see a window with the daylight sun shining through. He saw a door on the left side of the hall, with a plaque on it that he couldn’t read at their angle. Mitsuru took a left at the cross section, and Akira followed her to a room at the end of the hall. There was a window on the side of the door looking into the room, but the lights must have been off, because Akira couldn’t see anything on the other side.

Mitsuru used her badge again to open the door, and led Akira inside. There were a bunch of screens and monitors on the right wall of the room, and a few chairs and computers sitting at the desk below them. A security room. Akira wondered if this wasn’t originally part of the hotel and the Shadow Operatives had simply converted it for their own use. How in the world did Mitsuru even manage to convince this hotel to host their operation? Though, he supposed she could have just bought the hotel, being part of the Kirijo Group.

Sitting at the table underneath the monitors was a girl with short blonde hair. She wore a white button-down shirt with a black suit jacket and what looked like a pair of headphones over her ears. The girl turned and looked at Akira with a smile. “Ah, hello,” she said. “You must be Akira-san.”

Her voice sounded almost...robotic? Yet it was still somehow unmistakably human, like a natural voice with an artificial understanding of language. The inflections were there, but they felt synthetic, more proper than any normal person would speak. Was this woman a foreigner, he wondered?

“Kurusu, this is Aigis. She’s...well, uh…”

Aigis stood up and bowed politely in Akira’s direction. “Seventh Generation Anti-Shadow Suppression Unit, Aigis, at your service.”

“She’s a robot,” said Mitsuru. “Kind of.”

“Kind of?” Akira said, looking at Aigis in disbelief. She certainly looked robotic, but something about her demeanor felt more organic. Her smile felt genuine, her eyes full of life. There was an aura about her that Akira only felt around other living things.

“Aigis was built as a weapon, given emotions in order to wield a Persona.”

“She can use a Persona?”

Aigis nodded. “Multiple Personas, actually.”

Akira’s eyes widened. “You’re a wild card?” Again, Aigis nodded.

“And not the first we’ve met,” Mitsuru said. “There’s a boy from Inaba with the same ability. And…” Mitsuru trailed off. Akira watched as both of their faces fell, their eyes suddenly filled with sadness. Akira had seen that kind of sorrow before.

“Why don’t we get started?” Mitsuru said, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had been lingering in the room.

“Started with what?”

“Testing your Persona.”

Mitsuru crossed the room and grabbed a briefcase from under the desk. She set it on the table and undid the hatches. She motioned for Akira to come closer, and he approached the desk as Mitsuru opened the briefcase. Though when he saw the contents of the case, he jumped back.

Inside was...a gun?! Taken aback, Akira hesitated, stepping back as he saw Mitsuru reach into the suitcase and grab the pistol. “Why do you have a gun?” he stammered.

“This is an evoker,” Mitsuru explained. “A mechanism used to call out Personas. They’re how we use Personas in the real world.”

“I see…” Akira still wasn’t entirely convinced. He half expected Mitsuru to point the gun at him and pull the trigger herself. But she didn’t, instead she handed it to him. It felt lighter than he expected, a bit like the model guns he used in the Metaverse--lighter than what he expected a real gun to feel like, but still with a bit of weight behind it. “How do I use it?”

“You put the barrel to your head and pull the trigger,” Mitsuru said.

“ _ Excuse  _ me?” Akira was sure he’d misheard her. He had to shoot himself in the head to call out his Persona? There was no way. He didn’t trust her  _ that  _ much. “No way.”

Mitsuru sighed, and held out her hand. “Look, I’ll show you.” Akira handed her the gun. She placed it against her temple, took a deep breath, and pulled the trigger. Akira winced and squeezed his eyes shut. He refused to open them, sure that he would open them to see a pile of blood and brain guts on the floor.

Then he heard a sound he hadn’t expected. Instead of a loud BANG that a gun would normally make, Akira heard the sound of shattering glass. A gust of wind overtook the room, and Akira opened one eye. What he saw took him by surprise. Mitsuru stood with her eyes closed. Behind her was a large ghostlike womanly figure, wearing a black gown, metal armor, and a red mask with a long red nose. 

After a moment, the figure faded away, and Mitsuru opened her eyes. “That was Artemisia,” she said. “My Persona.”

Mitsuru handed the gun back to Akira. He stared at it for a moment, feeling its weight in his hands. It felt heavier than it did before. Mitsuru led Akira back to the empty rooms they’d passed on the way in. She unlocked one of the doors and told Akira to step inside. “Why?” he asked.

“To test your Persona,” Mitsuru said, as if that were the most obvious thing in the world.

Akira gripped the evoker in his hand and stepped into the empty white room. The door shut and locked behind him. Akira spun around and pushed at the door. It had no door handle. “Hey, what is this?!” he shouted. 

Mitsuru walked over and pressed one of the buttons on the control panel. “This will be a mock battle,” she said, her voice entering the room through an intercom speaker in the ceiling. “You’ll be fighting a Level 1 Shadow. If you’re truly as skilled as you say you are, this should be completely beneath you.” Mitsuru removed her finger from the button, and he could no longer hear her voice.

Sweat rolled down Akira’s face and a tightness filled his chest, as a sense of dread washed over him. It was a familiar sense of dread, one he’d felt before. It was the same feeling he’d felt whenever a shadow was in the vicinity. He turned around to face the back wall of the white room. It opened up and a Shadow walked into the room. Well, it sort of pushed itself along with its black, slimy arms. The Shadow looked like a puddle of black ooze with arms and a blue mask.

“Wh-what is that thing?!” Akira stammered.

“It’s a Shadow,” Mitsuru said over the intercom. “Have you not seen one of these before?”

Akira violently shook his head. “No, the Shadows in the Metaverse looked different. They looked...like people.” Mitsuru didn’t respond, and Akira looked back at the window. She muttered something to herself and fished out her notepad to jot something down. Akira returned his attention to the Shadow, which was still lounging about in the corner of the room. It seemed it hadn’t noticed Akira yet. Akira gripped the evoker in his hand.

Swallowing hard, Akira raised the evoker to his head with a shaky hand. He readied his index finger at the trigger, and took a deep breath to steady his nerve. Sure it wasn’t actually a gun, but it was still terrifying to place such a violent-looking object against his temple. It felt like playing Russian Roulette, there was always a chance you wouldn’t make it to the next round.

The Shadow seemed to catch a glimpse of him. It slowly inched towards him, accelerating as its sludgy body picked up traction. The sight of the creature sliding towards him sent a chill down Akira’s spine.  _ Come on, Joker, _ he said to himself.  _ You’ve shot fake guns tons of times before. You can do this. _ He tried to keep the thought out of the back of his head that every other time he’d shot a fake gun, it had been pointed at someone  _ else. _ With a deep breath, Akira readied himself to activate the evoker. “P-per...son…ah, hell.” 

His index finger flinched and he lost his grip on the handle. As he dropped the gun, the Shadow pounced on him, covering him in a sticky, slimy, goop.

“Aigis!” Mitsuru shouted from outside the room.

“Coming!”

The door behind him opened, and the robot girl bounded into the room. “Orpheus!” she shouted. Akira heard the same shattering sound, and a figure with ghost white hair appeared, carrying a lyre on its back. It pulled the lyre out and strummed it like an electric guitar, and the Shadow on top of Akira spontaneously caught fire. It let out an ear-shattering screech that shook Akira to the core, and it dissipated, leaving behind only the sludge left on Akira’s clothes.

Aigis offered Akira a hand and helped him to his feet. “Thanks,” he muttered. Aigis nodded at him and gave him a genuine smile. They stepped back through the door to a rather disappointed looking Mitsuru.

“Sorry,” Akira said. “I couldn’t bring myself to do it…”

“That’s quite alright,” said Mitsuru. “You’re far from the first person to have reservations about using an evoker. Let’s take a break for now.”

“When can I go home?” Akira asked. The question just kind of slipped out; he wasn’t even entirely sure why he’d asked it. Mitsuru had said that he was free to go if he told her everything he knew, yet here he still was. “You said I could go home.”

“I suppose I did say that, didn’t I?” Mitsuru sighed. “You’re free to leave if you wish. But if you want to help your friends, and fight this...Mr. Mask person...you’d do well to learn how to handle your Persona in the real world.”

She was right. Even Akira could admit it. He needed to know how to use his Persona outside the Metaverse if he and his friends were to have any chance of defending themselves. “Can I at least contact my friends?” he said. “Let them know that I’m okay?”

Mitsuru and Aigis shot a glance to each other, and then Mitsuru nodded. “Absolutely. I’ll have the staff leave your phone in your room tonight.”

“Thank you,” Akira said.

“But,” Mitsuru added. “The Shadow Operatives is a  _ secret _ organization. You can let your friends know that you’re okay, but you cannot reveal your location to them.”

“Understood,” Akira said with a nod.

“And just so you’re aware,” Mitsuru said. “This building uses a scrambling device on all electronic signals above the 15th floor. Your friends won’t be able to track your call. In fact, they won’t even know it’s your number calling them.”

Akira nodded in understanding. Mitsuru smiled, and turned back to the large door they entered through. “Let’s get you back to your room to clean up. After lunch, we’ll continue your training.”

\---

After eating lunch with Mitsuru and Aigis (Akira was surprised to see a robot eating a hamburger), they continued training. He mostly just watched for that afternoon; Mitsuru didn’t want a repeat of this morning. Akira carefully observed Mitsuru as she placed the gun to her head, pulled the trigger, and summoned her Persona, casting an ice spell to take down the Shadow in front of her.

He mimicked the action with his fingers, imagining it was a real evoker he was holding to his head. Even though it was just his hand, he still flinched when he pulled the “trigger.” A couple times, Mitsuru had him get into the booth without a Shadow, just to try summoning his Persona, but he still couldn’t bring himself to activate the evoker.

Lowering the evoker with a shaky hand, he felt himself start to choke up. Why couldn’t he do it? Why couldn’t he just summon his Persona? Everybody was counting on him, all of his friends. They all put their faith in Akira, their leader, and he was letting them down.

“Alright, Kurusu,” Mitsuru said over the intercom. “That’s enough for today. Don’t push yourself too hard.”

Akira removed his glasses and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. The door behind him opened, and he rejoined Mitsuru and Aigis in the hall. Returning to his room, Mitsuru cooked them more food, some kind of beef stir fry that was really good. As they were eating, there was a knock at the door. Mitsuru answered it. It was a staff member dropping off Akira’s clothes and cell phone. After thanking the maid, Mitsuru placed Akira’s items on the counter and continued eating.

Akira wasn’t very hungry. He’d only eaten about half his plate. It was delicious, but his mind kept drifting to his phone. He wanted to call his friends,  _ needed _ to call his friends. They were undoubtedly worried about him. “Can I…?” he said, pointing to his phone. 

With a mouthful of stir fry, Mitsuru nodded, swallowing her food and wiping her lips with her napkin. “But make the call in here, so I can monitor you. Remember, you can’t tell your friends where you are.”

“Of course,” Akira said, pushing his chair back and getting up, practically running to the counter to grab his phone. He dialed Ryuji’s number and placed the phone to his ear. It rung for a while, and Akira was terrified for a moment that he wouldn’t pick up. Much to Akira’s relief, he did.

“Hello? Who is this?” 

It took Akira a second, but he eventually remembered that Mitsuru had told him his number would be scrambled. Ryuji likely didn’t know it was him when he picked up. “Ryuji?” he said. “It’s me, Akira.”

“Wait, buddy, is that you?”

He heard some commotion on the other end of the line, voices that sounded like his friends’. Hearing his friends through the phone brought a smile to Akira’s face. Realistically, it’d only been a few days since he’d seen them, but it had felt like an eternity.

“Dude, where are you? Everybody’s been worried sick about you!” Ryuji said.

“I...can’t really tell you where I am right now. But I’m okay. I only just now got the chance to call you guys. I didn’t mean for you to worry about me, I’m sorry.”

“Hey, hold on, I’m gonna put you on speaker.” There was a pause, and then Ryuji’s voice came back, slightly farther away than before. “Alright, you’re on speaker.”

“Hey guys,” he said. There was an onslaught of voices, so sudden and loud that Akira jerked his phone away from his ear.

“Where have you been?” said Ann after the commotion had died down.

“I can’t say, I’m sorry,” he said.

“What do you mean you can’t say?” said Futaba.

“I’m...doing something important. Reconnaissance, I guess you could say. I may have found something that’ll help us with Mr. Mask.”

“Whoa, really?” said Ryuji. “What is it?”

“I’ll explain everything when I get back.”

“When  _ are _ you coming back?” said Makoto.

“I don’t know,” Akira said, glancing over at Makoto and Aigis, who were preoccupied with their stir fry. “Couple days? Maybe weeks? It all depends on how things go here. You’re just gonna have to trust me on this.”

“You are our leader,” came Yusuke’s calm and collected voice. “We have the utmost trust in you.”

Akira then heard the sound of meowing over the phone. “Wait,” he said. “Was that Morgana?”

The meowing continued. “That’s so strange, I can only hear him as a cat.”

“You can’t understand what he’s saying?” said Ryuji. “That’s effin’ weird, dude.”

“It likely has something to do with the fact that he’s hearing him on the phone,” said Haru. “We can understand Morgana because we’ve been to the Metaverse, but the phone only transmits the sound waves it picks up, which, in Morgana’s case, would be meowing.”

“That makes sense, I guess,” said Ann. “None of us have ever had to talk to Morgana on the phone before.”

“Oh! By the way,” said Ryuji. “Dude, there’s somethin’ important we gotta tell you.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“We got another message from Mr. Mask,” said Makoto.

“What?!”

“Mmm-hmm,” said Ryuji. “And it was like...only we could see it, like he hacked into one specific TV where only we would be able to see it.”

“He’s been spying on us, Akira,” said Haru.

“And that’s not all,” said Makoto. “The actual message was even more frightening.”

“What did he say in the message?” asked Akira. His heart was pounding. Another move had been made, another piece on the board. How far behind would this set them? And after Akira had  _ just _ found a way to fight back.

“He threatened the people we care about,” said Ann. “He said he has ‘ways of making us comply.’”

“He’s...going after our loved ones?” Akira said. His head was spinning. Mitsuru and Aigis were now listening intently.

“Yeah,” said Ryuji. “We figured the three people he’s most likely targeting are Makoto’s sister, the Boss, and my mom. Haru and Yusuke don’t really have any family anymore, and Ann’s parents aren’t even in Japan.”

“They’re safe right now, though,” Makoto said, easing his worries if only just a bit. “Ryuji and Yusuke made sure Mrs. Sakamoto was safe, Sae stayed over at Leblanc last night with the rest of us, and Sojiro was asleep when Futaba got home. Sae and Ryuji’s mom are both at work right now, where we’re fairly confident they’ll be safe, and Sojiro is here with us right now.”

“Sojiro-san is there?”

He heard shouting from the distance. It was Sojiro’s voice. “You better not be slacking off, kid,” he said. “I agreed to take you in, but I’ll kick you out if you flunk out of school.”

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Akira said. “I won’t neglect my studies.”

“Wherever you are, dude, you better hurry back,” said Ryuji. “We need our leader.”

Morgana meowed in what sounded like agreement.

“I will,” he said. “I promise.”

After saying good-bye to his friends, Akira hung up the phone and placed it back on the counter. It was then that he saw he had an abundance of missed messages. To be expected, he did just kind of drop off the face of the Earth for a few days. Most of them were from the group, asking where he is, talking in the group chat about what’s been going on, and then he had a couple from Fukuya.

 

**Aoi Fukuya:** Hey Fluffles, didn’t see you in class today. Everything okay?

**Aoi Fukuya:** I hope I didn’t make things awkward between you and that girl you brought with you to lunch…

**Aoi Fukuya:** Is she your girlfriend or something? Not jealous or anything, honest. Just like, making sure. Don’t want her to get the wrong idea.

**Aoi Fukuya:** Dude, you’re not avoiding me are you? What the hell?

 

Akira quickly responded to ease her worries.

 

**Akira Kurusu:** Hey! Sorry, just got these messages. It’s been a super busy day. Had another family situation. And no, Makoto’s not my girlfriend lol. Don’t worry. I don’t think you made her uncomfortable.

 

He hating lying to her. Usually he could justify it; he had to lie to her so she didn’t find out he was a Phantom Thief. But...he had no reason to tell her anything about Makoto. In fact, Fukuya  _ had _ made her uncomfortable. Akira honestly had no idea why he even decided to tell her that, why he decided to lie. To ease her worries, he supposed. But as soon as he’d sent it, he couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty.

Fukuya responded almost immediately, as if she’d been waiting for his reply all evening

 

**Aoi Fukuya:** Okay, good. Hope everything’s alright with your family. Will I see you on Monday?

**Akira Kurusu:** Not sure, to be honest. It all depends on how this family situation plays out. I’ll try to come back as soon as possible, though. Let Ms. Kimura know that I’m not intentionally skipping out on her class.

**Aoi Fukuya:** Gotcha. Good luck with everything!

**Akira Kurusu:** Thanks!!

 

He put down his phone and looked back over at Mitsuru and Aigis, who were sitting at the table, awaiting him to return his attention to them so they could ask about his phone call.

“Somebody’s threatening your loved ones?” Mitsuru asked.

Akira nodded. “Yeah, Mr. Mask. That mysterious person who we know nothing about.”

Mitsuru crossed her legs and wrapped her thumb and index finger around her chin. “Hmm,” she said. “That is quite concerning.”

“We must hurry with your training,” Aigis said. “So that you can return to your friends and ensure their safety.”

“Yeah…” Akira muttered.

Mitsuru pushed herself up from her chair and collected the dishes to place in the sink. “Get some rest tonight, Kurusu,” she told him. “You’ll meet tomorrow morning with Akihiko. If anybody can help you train, it’s him.”


	14. Hearts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Hey y'all!** Figured I should mention here that I just opened up commissions! So if you're interested, you can find more information [here.](http://excuuuseme-princess.tumblr.com/post/169603376757/nicks-writing-commissions) Tell your friends (hahah im broke af)

Futaba cursed her feet for not being able to move quick enough. She also cursed them for being tired already. Her house wasn’t far at all from Leblanc, yet today it felt like an eternity away, like the road kept stretching, elongating the distance between her and the cafe.

The door to the restaurant slammed open, and the force nearly knocked the bell off the door frame. Futaba stood in the entrance, gasping and panting to catch her breath, her heart rate refuses to go down. When she finally straightened herself out, she saw her friends, sitting in the lobby and staring at her with confused expressions. It wasn’t until she rotated her head and saw Sojiro standing behind the counter with the same look on his face that her body finally allowed her to relax.

“Sojiro! You almost gave me a heart attack!” she shouted.

“Futaba, what the hell has gotten into you?” said Sojiro.

“I woke up and you weren’t there. I got so worried…”

Makoto stood up and walked over to Futaba, wrapping her arms around her in comfort. “It’s okay,” she consoled. “He’s safe.”

Without realizing it, Futaba had started crying. She only was made aware of her tears when the feeling returned to her cheeks and she felt her face dampen. Sojiro looked between the group sitting in the booths and Futaba, his mouth open as if starting to say something, but at a complete loss as of what to say. “C-can somebody explain what’s going on here?” he finally managed.

“Mr. Mask sent us a threatening message last night,” Ryuji explained.

“Mr...Mask?”

“The guy behind that weird broadcast the other day,” Ann clarified.

“You mean that wasn’t just some prank?”

Makoto shook her head. “No, it was real, and very threatening. He told us last night that he’d start coming after those we cared about.”

“Which is why I was so worried about you!” Futaba cried, reaching over the counter and slugging Sojiro in the arm.

“Ow! Hey!”

Futaba had finally collected herself, and was no longer hyperventilating. Now that Sojiro was confirmed to be safe, she was a bit more at ease. He’d been sleeping when she went home last night, and she’d decided to stay with him until morning. She must have fallen asleep, and Sojiro somehow left for work without her even noticing. Man, she was a heavy sleeper sometimes.

Looking around the cafe, she saw that all her friends from last night had reconvened. Ryuji and Yusuke who had split off from the group last night had returned, and now that Futaba had arrived, everyone was together again, sans Akira, of course. There was somebody else who was missing, however, who was with them last night. “Where’s Sae?” she asked.

“She had to go to work,” Makoto said. “Her life can’t just come to a half because of potential danger. She’ll be surrounded by detectives and police officers, though, so I think she’ll be okay.”

“Yeah, my mom had to work, too,” said Ryuji. “She’s carpooling with a friend though. Should be alright.” Though he tried to sound confident, Futaba could hear the concern dripping from his voice.

Having finally settled down, Futaba sat down at the bar while Sojiro made her and the others some curry for breakfast.

After much discussion, the tired group of friends decided it would be best to go about their normal daily business. Ryuji had protested, of course; he wanted to look for Akira. Makoto, however, explained that until they had more details, about both Akira’s whereabouts and Mr. Mask’s intentions, it was better to remain inconspicuous. Plus, while Sojiro expressed concern for Akira’s well-being, he also expressed contempt for the idea of Futaba missing school.

The Thieves all went their separate ways, and Futaba raced home to change and get ready for school. Nearly missing her train, she found a strap to hang on to and fought to keep her balance on the rickety subway ride.

The subway pulled up to Aoyama-Itchome station. Futaba exited the train and caught up with her friend Kana, who had been patiently waiting for her subway to arrive, as she did every day.

“You’re late,” Kana said with a sultry grin. It was more of a joke than a serious remark, a playful jab at Futaba, the way friends did. Or at least, the way Futaba _supposed_ friends did. She didn’t exactly have a lot of experience in the friend department, not before the Phantom Thieves got together, at least. She made jabs at Ryuji’s expense all the time, and he seemed to still be her friend.

“Got caught up with something,” Futaba replied. She tried to play it off as no big deal, but Kana saw right through her ruse.

“What’s wrong?” she said.

“Nothing! I promise. Let’s go, we’re gonna be late!”

Kana eyed Futaba up and down suspiciously, before shrugging and beginning the short trek from the station to Shujin. Futaba followed suit, swinging her school case at her side.

Honestly, Futaba loved school, the concept of it at least. She relished the idea of a place where people went to learn new things, meet new people, and participate in activities. It was like the Internet, but in real life! Unfortunately, the reality of the situation was less appealing.

Futaba was bored. She knew most of the material in her third-year classes already, from the two years she’d spent reading books holed up in her room, so none of her classes were much of a challenge. The only person she really talked to at school was Kana. It wasn’t that the other students were mean, _per se_ , but her severe social anxiety made it particularly difficult for her to approach anybody she didn’t already know. She once _tried_ to join the AV club, but when she showed up to the first meeting, the only members were a bunch of boys, who looked at her with a mix of uncomfortable interest and disdain. She couldn’t take more than five minutes of the club before running out of the room, trying to find Kana while fighting back tears.

So she mostly kept to herself at school. She and Kana were in different classes, so she mostly just sat at her desk all day, zoning out during most of the lectures and finishing her homework before even getting it home. At lunch, she sat with Kana out in the hallway. It was the one part of her day that she actively looked forward to. She got to see her best friend, eat some good food, share a few laughs. It was an all-around good time.

Today, however, it was different. For both of them. For Futaba, she was distracted by the events of the days prior -- Akira going missing, Mr. Mask threatening their loved ones...It was hard to concentrate on anything else. The Thieves had planned to meet back up that evening at Leblanc; Makoto suggested they stick together whenever the can, in case something big happened. Now, Futaba was just anxiously awaiting school to get out so she could return home and keep Sojiro in her sights.

It was also different for Kana, Futaba noticed. Different, because she wasn’t alone.

Hayato Sakaki. Some dumb kid who’d gotten in trouble because he decided to dye his hair blue. Shujin had a policy against non-natural hair colors. Of course, they couldn’t stop you from dyeing your hair, so long as it was a color that could occur naturally. That’s how Ryuji got away with bleaching his hair; technically, blonde was a natural color.

But no, Hayato had decided to dye his hair _bright_ blue, like electric blue. He walked into school that day and was sent straight to the principal’s office. The story goes, he called the principal an “old fogey” and threatened to sue the school for infringing on his right to free speech, upon which the frustrated principal let him off with just a detention.

Now, he had a reputation as a badass on school, a rebel with a cause, fighting for the rights of students everywhere. He even kept the blue hair, though once it faded, he decided to try a different color. Every month or so he had a new color in his hair. After a while, the teachers just learned to roll their eyes and ignore him.

Futaba couldn’t _stand_ Hayato Sakaki.

On this particular day, his hair was dyed red. And not red like Futaba’s hair, no, red like a goddamn tomato. His hair was so red that if Futaba decided to bash his head in on his locker, nobody would be able to tell because the blood would be the same color as his hair.

“What is _this_ doing here?” Futaba growled.

“Play nice, Futaba,” said Kana. “You know Hayato, right? He’s in your class.”

“‘Course I know him,” she said. “Everybody knows him.”

Hayato pumped his eyebrows and smirked at Futaba, surveying her up and down with a sense of hunger in his eyes. “Oh, so you’re the Futaba-chan that Kattan keeps telling me about. You’re even feistier in person.”

Futaba could not even _begin_ to decide what she disliked the most about what Hayato had just said. Every single word drove Futaba mad. The condescending way he pronounced the “oh,” the way he called her “Futaba-chan” as if they’d known each other all their lives, the way he called Kana by a dumb nickname like “Kattan,” the way he described her as “feisty.” But perhaps the thing that infuriated her the most about it, was the implication that Kana and Hayato had spoken, not simply once, but frequently, and about _her._

“I repeat,” Futaba said, gesturing at the ketchup splatter standing in front of her. “What is _this_ doing here.”

“Futaba!” Kana whined. “Stop being mean to Hayato. I thought you’d be happy for me.”

“Happy for what?”

“Didn’t you get my text? I told you that Hayato and I just started dating.”

 _Dating._ _Dating_ _._ _Dating_ _._ _Dating_ _._ The word echoed in Futaba’s head until it finally clicked. “You’re _dating_ him?” She stuffed a chopstick-full of cooked cabbage into her mouth and managed to get out a muffled “Well, congratulations.”

Kana glowered at Futaba, who simply continued eating her lunch without making eye contact. She warfed down her food and packed up her lunchbox.

“Wait, where are you going?” Kana said as Futaba got up to leave.

“Somewhere where _he_ isn’t.”

“Futaba…” Kana protested.

But Futaba was already gone. She stuffed her lunchbox into her bag and rounded a corner. Once she was no longer in eyeshot, she broke into a run, racing into the girl’s bathroom and locking herself in one of the stalls. She’d felt tears coming, and she did _not_ want anybody at school to see her cry.

Why was she so upset? He was just some dumb boy. Some dumb, stupid, ignoramus of a boy. A dumb, stupid ignoramus of a boy who happened to be dating her best friend. It was dumb, and Futaba knew it. She _should_ be happy for Kana. Kana had always talked about wanting a boyfriend, a conversation Futaba always tried to avoid whenever the topic came up. Something about the word just always felt strange on her tongue. _Boyfriend._ It felt foreign, like a word she _technically_ knew how to say, but was always pronouncing incorrectly, or using incorrectly in a sentence. _Hey, have you gone to the boyfriend today? They’re having a sale on datings._

Futaba put her feet up on the toilet and hugged her shins, burying her face in her knees. She should be happy for Kana. Kana was her best friend, and if she was happy, then Futaba should be happy.

So why wasn’t she? Why did she feel this insufferable pain in her chest? The thought of her, and him, and kissing. It just, _ugh_ , it felt so wrong, though the reason why, she could not put into words. It just felt wrong, okay? Like there was a way things were supposed to be, and that dumb ketchup-headed boy was _not_ in that picture.

Screw it.

After spending a few minutes regaining her composure, Futaba exited the stall and splashed some water on her face in the sink. She dried it off with a paper towel, and made sure it didn’t look like she’d just been crying. Then she left the bathroom and headed back to her class. Her phone buzzed in her pocket. Hoping it was a message in the Phantom Thieves chat about Akira’s whereabouts, she pulled it out and checked the display. It was a message from Kana. She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or annoyed by that.

 

 **Kana Otsume:** Hey, are you okay? What the hell was that all about?

 **Futaba Sakura:** You KNOW I don’t like that tomato kid, Kan.

 **Kana Otsume:** Okay, but you could at least be nice, considering he’s my boyfriend and all.

 **Futaba Sakura:** Eugh, there’s that word again. I hate that word.

 **Kana Otsume:** Oh grow up, Futaba.

 **Futaba Sakura:** Fiiine, I’ll be nice to the little carrot-top.

 **Kana Otsume:** That’s all I ask.

 **Futaba Sakura:** I’m sorry I was such a bonehead. Forgive me?

 **Kana Otsume:** Of course, Futaba! You’re my best friend, nothing can change that.

 **Futaba Sakura:** Can I just ask? What do you see in him?

 **Kana Otsume:** In Hayato? He’s actually really sweet if you get to know him. Aside from that, he’s really funny, and I like his rebellious attitude. Plus, I’m not gonna lie, the colored hair is kinda hot lol.

 **Futaba Sakura:** Gag me lol.

 **Kana Otsume:** I gotta go, teacher’s here. But you wanna walk together after school? At least to the station, I know you get off at a different stop.

 **Futaba Sakura:** Is firetruck coming too?

 **Kana Otsume:** Probably.

 **Futaba Sakura:** Sigh. Fine, I’ll put up with him for you. :P

 **Kana Otsume:** Love you, Futaba. <3

 **Futaba Sakura:** Love you too, “Kattan.” <3

\---

“Wherever you are, dude, you better hurry back,” said Ryuji. “We need our leader.”

“Yeah, stop slacking off, Joker!” mewed Morgana.

 _“I will,”_ came Akira’s voice through the phone. _“I promise.”_

The group said their goodbyes and then Ryuji hung up his phone. Now they could return their attention back to the topic at hand.

“Well,” said Makoto. “That’s one less thing we have to worry about.”

“I’m still worried,” said Haru. “But I think we have to trust in our leader and have faith that he knows what he’s doing.”

The group all nodded in agreement.

“Now then,” said Ryuji. “Onto our _other_ pressing issue.”

Futaba glanced over at her adoptive father, diligently wiping down the countertop and humming a soft tune to himself. “We gotta catch this bastard before he does something _real_ bad.”

“Agreed,” said Yusuke. “We already know he’s been spying on us, likely watching our every move. It’s imperative that we strike before he does.”

“Especially now that he’s issued a formal threat,” said Makoto. “My sister and the Boss already know about the danger they face and are being extra cautious, but what about your mom, Ryuji? She hasn’t got a clue as to what’s going on.”

“Do you think we should tell her?” asked Haru.

“Are you guys crazy?” Ryuji snapped. “I can’t tell my _mom_ about any of this shit, she’ll freak! It’d break her heart if she knew I was...am...a Phantom Thief.”

Ann sighed. “This whole situation blows.”

“You can say that again,” Morgana huffed.

The conversation somewhat deteriorated from there. Nobody really had any idea how to move forward. They really were at a loss without their leader. Haru got up and put on her apron, slipping behind the counter to help Sojiro with the dishes that had accumulated. Makoto asked Yusuke how his night had gone over at Ryuji’s, while Morgana tried to chat up Ann, even though Ann was content just to rub her hands across Morgana’s soft fur.

Ryuji was just about to call it a day and head home to check on his mom when his phone rang again. Nobody else seemed to notice except Futaba, who had been sitting across from him, and flinched at the sudden sound of the device vibrating against the table. “Who is it?” she asked him.

Ryuji checked the screen. “Another blocked number,” he said. “I’ll bet it’s Akira again.” He picked up the phone and placed it to his ear. “Hey buddy, forget something?”

“ _Hello, Phantom Thieves.”_

Ryuji’s jaw dropped open upon hearing that familiar mechanical voice. He stood up so fast and abruptly that Futaba gasped as the edge of the table slammed into her stomach. Everyone turned around to look at what was happening. Ryuji silently and frantically beckoned them all back to the table. Haru shook the water off her hands and dried them on a dishtowel, taking off her apron and joining the rest of the group at their booth. Sojiro watched worriedly from behind the counter.

Ryuji set the phone on the table and pressed the speakerphone button. “Who are you?” he said. “What do you want from us?”

“ _I take it you’ve received my message._ ”

“The one where you threaten our loved ones? Yeah, we got it.” Ann’s voice was so shaky with rage that she was nearly spitting her words into the phone. “But you already knew that, _didn’t you?_ ”

There was a pause on the other line. “ _Of course. I can’t let my eyes off you, now can I?_ ”

“What do you want you creep?” Ryuji roared.

“ _The same thing you all want, or at least, have claimed to want. Societal reform._ ”

“Societal reform?” repeated Yusuke.

“ _The world is filled with crooks and criminals, evil people with evil intentions. And there was a time not too long ago that those wicked people quaked in their boots, trembled at the mention of the ‘Phantom Thieves.’”_

Nobody at Leblanc responded. Nobody knew what to say. The voice continued.

“ _Yet you’ve gone soft in your old age, apparently. You haven’t stolen a single heart in years.”_

 _We can’t_ , Ryuji wanted to say. _The Metaverse is gone._ _We don’t got a way to steal hearts anymore._ But he kept quiet. Even he knew better than to give away crucial information like that to the enemy.

“ _I tried to inspire you. I tried to push you. Now I’ve no choice but to threaten you. If you don’t continue to steal hearts, and soon, your loved ones will suffer.”_

“How does this make you any better than the criminals you claim to detest?” Haru spat. “Sending out demands and threats, being all secretive.”

After a long pause, the voice finally spoke up. “ _The end justifies the means.”_

Ann scoffed. “Bull shit! You’re just another evil person with twisted desires, and you know what? We’re gonna steal _your_ heart. We’re going to make _you_ change your ways.”

“Ann!” Makoto scolded under her breath.

The voice on the other line laughed, a distorted, muffled jumble of feedback that made Ryuji wince. “ _Steal my heart, eh? That’s not a bad idea. Well then, go ahead. Steal my heart.”_

Makoto glared at Ann with a mix of concern and frustration. The rest of the group remained silent.

“ _Well then,_ ” the voice continued. “ _I suppose we’ll be meeting each other very soon._ ” It laughed again and then, abruptly, the line cut off.

“Ann what the hell was that?!” Makoto chastised. Ann flashed her a sheepish grin and rubbed the back of her head.

“I’m sorry! I just...got caught up in the moment. He was really starting to piss me off.”

“It’s not a bad idea, though,” said Ryuji. Everybody turned to look at him. Ryuji returned their confused stares with a confident smirk. “Let’s steal that bastard’s heart.”


	15. A Better Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this chapter is, without a doubt, my favorite thing I've written thus far, at least in this fic. I wrote this a couple months ago, during NaNoWriMo, I think, and I was so excited about it that I wanted to publish it right away lol. I really hope you guys enjoy this one!
> 
> That being said, I'm all but caught up with myself in terms of my writing-publishing schedule. With school and everything going on, I haven't had all the time in the world to write for this fic, so I may need to take a week or two of hiatus soon. I promise I will keep this fic going, though! I have a lot of ideas of where I want it to go I just need to actually sit down and write them. I hope you guys can understand! <3
> 
>  
> 
> _All that being said, I am still taking commissions, which might actually help motivate me to write more, (nothing gets me motivated like cold hard cash!) so if you're interested, you can find more information[here!](http://excuuuseme-princess.tumblr.com/post/169603376757/nicks-writing-commissions)_

Akira awoke the next day to Mitsuru knocking on his door telling him to get ready. Still a bit groggy, he quickly hopped in the shower and slipped back into his clothes. Mitsuru had had the hotel staff wash his clothes for him, so they were clean and smelled of lilacs. It felt nice to put his own clothes back on, instead of that embarrassingly thin hospital-scrub-like outfit.

When he was dressed and ready, he walked into the other room of the suite, having found that Mitsuru had left it unlocked. Mitsuru was cooking eggs again, and they sat down at the table to eat. Mitsuru asked about his friends, what they were like, how they met, and if it was difficult being both their friend and their leader. Akira wasn’t sure if Mitsuru was genuinely interested or just making polite small talk, but it was a pleasant conversation nonetheless. It only served to strengthen his resolve to return home and reunite with his friends.

When they’d finished, Mitsuru collected their plates again and ran them under the water in the sink. “So, you’ll be meeting with Akihiko today,” she said. “He’s a tough trainer, but he gets the job done. Let me know when you’re ready to go and I’ll take you back to the facilities.”

Akira took the opportunity to return to his room and use the bathroom, brush his teeth, and shave. When he was done, he returned to Mitsuru and she led him back down that hallway and through the large metal door.

“I gotta ask,” Akira said. “Why a hotel? And how did you manage to get an entire laboratory up here? What about the guests at the hotel?”

“Simple,” Mitsuru answered. “I own this hotel.”

_ Knew it _ , Akira thought.

“My father was the head of Kirijo Group before he passed. Money was never an issue for us, and when he died, I received a large amount of Kirijo stock. I’ve since used that inheritance to fund our operation. I bought this hotel to be used as a base.”

“Why a hotel though?”

“It was an investment. We operate as a completely normal establishment below this floor. It generates revenue to further fund our activities. And its centralized location provides a good base for operations across Japan.”

Akira had to admit, he was impressed. Mitsuru really had everything figured out. This was a solid operation she was running, here. Strange how his mindset had completely flipped from just a few days ago.

Mitsuru led him to another one of the booth-like rooms. Inside was a gigantic hulk of a man, bare chested and heavily scarred, wearing nothing but a pair of shorts and a long, regal-looking red cape. Akira was taken aback by just how  _ extra _ this man was in his appearance. They entered the room and walked up to the behemoth. “This,” Mitsuru said, “is Akihiko Sanada. He will be training you today.”

“Oh yeah,” Akira said. “You’re the dude that kidnapped me, right?”

Mitsuru glowered at the large man, who rubbed the back of his head and responded with a sheepish grin. “Yeah,” he chuckled. “That’d be me. Sorry about that.”

“Water under the bridge,” Akira said with a cheeky smile. “Name’s Akira.”

“You ready to start your training?” Akihiko said.

“As I’ll ever be.”

Mitsuru handed him an evoker and left the room. The door closed behind her, and she moved to the control panel, pressing a button to speak to them inside the room. “Your goal today is to be able to summon your Persona. You needn’t go further than that if you aren’t feeling up to it. Good luck, Kurusu. And Akihko...please go easy on the kid.”

“No promises,” Akihiko said, winking and pushing at his nose with his thumb. 

Mitsuru sighed and rolled her eyes. “Alright, you may begin.”

It happened quicker than Akira could even react. As soon as the word  _ begin _ came through the intercom, Akihiko had lifted the gun to his head and pulled the trigger, shouting “ _ Persona!!” _ as a blue fog enveloped his body, and a translucent figure appeared behind him. His Persona appeared as a stoic man in white clothing, standing tall with a sword in one hand and a globe in the other.

“This is my Persona,” said Akihiko. “His name’s Caesar.”

Akira simply stood in awe at the sight of Akihiko’s Persona. It was certainly fitting for him, a big goliath of a man with a powerful emperor as his Persona. He didn’t have much time to react to it, however, because as quickly as Akihiko had summoned him, he was on the move.

“Zio!” Akihiko called out, darting to the left as Caesar raised his sword.

_ Wait, what?!  _ Akira barely dodged in time as a bolt of lightning descended from the ceiling and crashed down onto the white tile, leaving a circle of soot in its wake.

“What the hell?!” Akira stuttered.

“Akihiko, I thought I told you to go easy on him,” Mitsuru’s voice came through the speaker.

“I am!” said Akihiko. “I only used a low-level spell on him!”

Mitsuru groaned. Akira felt his heart pounding in his chest. He was almost just struck by lightning. He almost  _ died. _ And he was powerless to help himself.

No. He wasn’t powerless. He had to remind himself of that. He had the power to help himself, and his friends. That power was literally in his hands, in the evoker he clutched in his left hand. He raised the evoker to his head, trying to steady his hand to pull the trigger. He willed his finger to pull it, to activate the evoker, to summon his Persona, but he still couldn’t bring himself to do it. Akihiko readied his evoker for another strike, and Akira broke into a run. The room wasn’t very large, but Akira knew it was harder to hit a moving target. Akihiko used another lightning spell, barely missing Akira once again.

“Do you know why the evoker is shaped like a gun?” Akihiko said, running in circles around the perimeter of the room. It seemed like he was employing the same tactics as Akira, even though Akira had yet to pull out a counterattack. “Through the Kirijo Group’s studies, we discovered that Personas manifest through extreme mental and physical stress. Evokers are shaped like a gun because it provokes a sense of dread within you, as if you were playing a game of Russian Roulette.” 

Akihiko stopped at the far end of the room opposite to Akira, who screeched to a halt as well. He relished the chance to catch his breath. He wasn’t sure how he was so tired already, but he felt like he could collapse and sleep the rest of the day right then and there. “And you know what?” Akihiko continued. He closed his eyes, raising the evoker to his temple. “When you pull the trigger, for just a second, it really does feel like you’re dead.” 

He took a deep breath. “Sometimes that feeling is what keeps me going.”

Suddenly, Akihiko’s eyes snapped open, and Akira heard that now-familiar cracking sound, as Akihiko summoned his Persona once again. Akira gritted his teeth and went on the move again, narrowly dodging another, seemingly more powerful lightning attack.

“So think of it this way,” Akihiko called, circling the room again, as if chasing Akira down, but never taking his eyes of him. “You’re being attacked, there’s lightning flying everywhere, you’re very much in danger right now. And the only way out is to put a gun to your head and pull the trigger.”

Akihiko cast another lightning spell at Akira. It was getting harder to dodge them; this one singed off a few strands of Akira’s hair. Akira was nearly wheezing at this point, unable to catch his breath. “I guess what I’m saying is,” Akihiko said. “Of course you’re scared. You’re  _ supposed _ to be scared. If you weren’t…” Akihiko slowed and eventually stopped altogether, shifting his eyes away from Akira for a second. “If you weren’t well...you’d be a better man than me.”

With his attention momentarily preoccupied, Akira took this chance to catch his breath. He slowed his pace and graciously took in the much-needed oxygen. He raised a shaky hand to his head, readying the gun against his temple. He felt the metal digging into his cranium, icy cold compared to his rising body temperature. With a few shaky breaths, he readied his index finger on the trigger.

_ Just do it, _ he urged himself.  _ Just do it, damn it!  _ He was scared. Akihiko had been right about that. He was scared even without the madman throwing lightning bolts at him. He was terrified that, maybe they’d made a mistake, given him a real gun on accident, and he would actually end up with a bullet in his brain. More than that, though, he was scared that it wouldn’t do anything, scared that he would pull the trigger and nothing would happen. No cracking sound, so blue fog, no Persona. If he couldn’t summon his Persona, even by forcing it out with this evoker then…

“Kid,” Akihiko said, his voice surprisingly close. Akira snapped his eyes open. He hadn’t even realized he’d closed them, but apparently they’d been squeezed shut. Akihiko was now towering in front of him, casting a shadow down upon him. This was the first chance Akira had to get a close look at the man. His torso was  _ covered _ in scars. Even his face had a few marks on it. It clashed with his otherwise rounded features: a curved jawline, dusted with a light stubble of facial hair, a cross-shaped scar at the corner of his hairline. His hair was short and messy, a sandy white color that reminded Akira of vanilla ice cream.

Despite his monstrous appearance, Akihiko wore an expression of compassion on his face, like a weathered soldier returning home from war. He smiled down at Akira.

Akira’s right hand was shaking. He could barely hold the evoker still enough to shoot. He took in a jagged breath, letting it out and releasing with it some of the tension in his palm. “Close your eyes,” Akihiko said, and Akira did as he said. “I want you to picture, in your mind’s eye, someone you hold dear, someone you want to protect.”

A vision of his friends appeared in his mind, all of them, hanging out at Leblanc on a sunny Saturday afternoon.

“Now,” Akihiko continued. “I want you to imagine someone is holding a gun to that person’s head. They’re about to pull the trigger. If you don’t react in time, that person is dead.”

The thought made his heart pound. His hand continued shaking. He pictured somebody, a man in a black masquerade mask, holding his friends at gunpoint. He imagined them, powerless and scared, unable to do anything without his help. Not only did the thought terrify him, it also filled him with rage. How  _ dare _ they threaten his friends!

“Alright,” said Akihiko. “Not take the evoker in your hand, press it against your temple.” He felt Akihiko’s rough hands guiding the gun to to his head. He pressed it into Akira’s skull, hard enough that Akira winced in pain. Akihiko placed his hands around Akira’s, steadying them, as Akira readied his hand on the trigger. “Take a deep breath,” Akihiko said. Akira’s brow was quivering, his entire body trembling. He sharply inhaled, holding the air in his lungs. “And pull the trigger.”

Akihiko pressed lightly on Akira’s finger, urging him to do it himself, but guiding him as much as he could along the way. Exhaling the painful breath he’d been keeping in, Akira finally found the resolve within himself to pull the trigger.

For a moment, he felt nothing. Like, actually nothing. No cracking sound, so blue fog, no Persona. He no longer felt Akihiko’s hands on his own. In fact, he couldn’t feel much of anything. His entire body was overcome with a numbness, not like the kind of numbness you would get at the dentist for a cavity filling, or when you sleep on your arm the wrong way and you can’t feel it in the morning. It was more like, just an absence of sense. He saw, smelled, heard, and felt nothing. It was as if he had never felt anything before in his life. For a second, he forgot what feeling felt like.

Then, as quickly as the numbness came upon him, everything came rushing back to him, and suddenly, he felt. He felt a lot. Pain, in his head, like an ice cream headache, but multiplied by a hundred. Cold, as if he’d teleported to Antarctica, but also warmth, a hot, boiling sensation slowly rising in his body. A gust of wind enveloped him, and he heard the sound of wings beating.

He turned around and saw, wrapped in a blue fog, his Persona, Arsene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, on that note, I think it might be time to change the name of this fic. I just used Jailbreak because it fit the theme of the first game with all of the prison symbolism and stuff, but it doesn't really seem to fit the theme of this fic. I'm more than happy to take any suggestions you might have for better titles. Let me know what you guys think!


	16. Sleep

**Ryuji Sakamoto:** So is everybody clear on the plan?

 **Ann Takamaki:** Not even in the slightest.

 **Ryuji Sakamoto:** Oh, c’mon! It’s not that complicated.

 **Yusuke Kitagawa:** Actually, I am similarly confused.

 **Ryuji Sakamoto:** Come on guys. We’re going to send Mr. Mask a calling card!

 **Futaba Sakura:** Yeah, but what then?

 **Ryuji Sakamoto:** No, see, that’s the brilliance of it. We don’t do anything after that.

 **Futaba Sakura:** …

 **Haru Okumura:** So...it’s a bluff?

 **Ryuji Sakamoto:** Exactly! If we make him THINK we’re going to steal his heart, then we’ve got the upper hand.

 **Ryuji Sakamoto:** If he’s scared, he’s gonna make a mistake. They all make a mistake eventually.

 **Ryuji Sakamoto:** Trust me, I watch a lot of cop shows.

 **Futaba Sakura:** …

 **Futaba Sakura:** Okay, so not a bad plan, but do you take constructive criticism?

 **Ryuji Sakamoto:** Uh...sure?

 **Futaba Sakura:** Your plan fucking sucks.

 **Ryuji Sakamoto:** That’s not constructive criticism…

 **Makoto Niijima:** Honestly, Ryuji? I kind of agree with Futaba.

 **Makoto Niijima:** Though, I wouldn’t phrase it so, uh...eloquently.

 **Ryuji Sakamoto:** :(

 **Ann Takamaki:** I mean, I’m all for the idea of stealing this bastard’s heart, but I don’t think just bluffing him out is going to work.

 **Ryuji Sakamoto:** I’m sorry, guys. I tried.

 **Futaba Sakura:** I suppose more than one idea per year is too much to ask out of you, Ryuji.

 **Futaba Sakura:** Don’t worry. It’s not your fault you’re dumb.

 **Makoto Niijima:** Be civil, guys.

 **Yusuke Kitagawa:** I do agree with Ann, though. I believe stealing Mr. Mask’s heart would be our best course of action.

 **Ann Takamaki:** Yeah, but how? With the Metaverse gone, we can’t enter people’s palaces.

 **Haru Okumura:** Didn’t Akira say something about us still having our Personas? Maybe the Metaverse still exists in some form.

 **Futaba Sakura:** Mona says he doubts it, or he’d be able to feel its presence.

 **Makoto Niijima:** Hmm…

 **Haru Okumura:** Something on your mind, Mako-chan?

 **Makoto Niijima:** Kind of. I was thinking back to our time as the Thieves a few years ago.

 **Makoto Niijima:** Whenever we stole somebody’s treasure, it manifested as something in the real world. Something that represented that person’s distorted desires.

 **Ryuji Sakamoto:** Oh yeah! Like Kamoshida’s olympic medal.

 **Yusuke Kitagawa:** Or the Sayuri with Madarame.

 **Ann Takamaki:** Where are you going with this, Makoto?

 **Makoto Niijima:** Well, the treasures we brought back into the world with us were replicas, of course, but they were all real things that existed in the real world.

 **Haru Okumura:** I think I know where you’re going with this.

 **Ryuji Sakamoto:** So we just gotta find out what Mr. Mask’s treasure would be in the real world, and steal that?

 **Makoto Niijima:** I don’t think it’ll have the same effect as stealing his treasure in the Metaverse, but at the very least we could use it as leverage.

 **Futaba Sakura:** Sound plan, but I have some more constructive criticism.

 **Makoto Niijima:** Well, I’d like to see you come up with something better.

 **Futaba Sakura:** No, like, actual constructive criticism this time.

 **Makoto Niijima:** Oh, okay. What is it?

 **Futaba Sakura:** We know literally nothing about this guy. We’ve never seen his face, heard his voice. Not only do we have no way of getting to his treasure, but we have no idea how to even figure out what his treasure is.

 **Ann Takamaki:** Futaba’s right. How are we supposed to steal his treasure if we don’t even know who he is?

 **Makoto Niijima:** I know. It’s a longshot, but we’re going to have to figure something out.

 **Ryuji Sakamoto:** I like the idea, personally.

 **Yusuke Kitagawa:** We’re going to have to find out more information about Mr. Mask.

 **Ann Takamaki:** How do you suppose we go about doing that?

 **Futaba Sakura:** I can look around on the deep web some more, but I doubt he’s left any kind of trail.

 **Makoto Niijima:** We might be able to figure something out if he calls us again.

 **Haru Okumura:** Maybe we should go over what the plan is if he does, in case he calls sometime when we’re not together.

 **Makoto Niijima:** Good idea, Haru.

 **Futaba Sakura:** Hmmmmmm, how should we weasel some information out of him?

 **Yusuke Kitagawa:** Perhaps it would benefit us to learn of Mr. Mask’s motive? Why he is so intent on changing hearts?

 **Ryuji Sakamoto:** And maybe why he can’t do it himself.

 **Ann Takamaki:** Why target us after so much time has passed?

 **Futaba Sakura:** I think we should ask him to meet us in person.

 **Haru Okumura:** Do you really think he’d go for that?

 **Futaba Sakura:** Maybe we can say we’ll start changing hearts if we meet him. Say there’s something we need from him in order to do so.

 **Makoto Niijima:** That...could actually work.

 **Ann Takamaki:** But what would we say we need from him in order to steal hearts?

 **Ryuji Sakamoto:** Shit, this is hard.

 **Futaba Sakura:** Don’t strain yourself thinking, Ryuji.

 **Ryuji Sakamoto:** >.<

 **Makoto Niijima:** What if we just tell him the truth?

 **Yusuke Kitagawa:** What do you mean?

 **Makoto Niijima:** Like, tell him about the Metaverse, or at least, tell him that we have no physical way to steal hearts anymore.

 **Makoto Niijima:** We can say we need his help to steal hearts, and that we’ll explain more in person, in case the wires are tapped.

 **Haru Okumura:** That’s not a bad idea, Mako-chan.

 **Makoto Niijima:** I’d rather not have to reveal the existence of the Metaverse if we can avoid it, but it’s looking like we might have no choice.

 **Futaba Sakura:** Mona agrees.

 **Ryuji Sakamoto:** Bitchin’, so we got a plan now. Like an actual plan!

 **Yusuke Kitagawa:** At the very least the seedlings of one.

 **Makoto Niijima:** Let’s agree to meet up tomorrow night. And keep your phones on. If one of you gets a call from Mr. Mask, let us know right away.

 **Ryuji Sakamoto:** You got it, boss!

 **Makoto Niijima:** I’m not the boss...Akira’s coming back.

 **Futaba Sakura:** You’re kinda like the boss while the boss is away. You’re like the Assistant Manager of the Phantom Thieves.

 **Makoto Niijima:** Really?

 **Ann Takamaki:** Yeah, I mean nobody else has really stepped up to be the leader in Akira’s absence.

 **Haru Okumura:** You’re a natural leader, Makoto.

 **Makoto Niijima:** Well, thanks...Don’t get too used to it, though. I could never replace Akira.

 **Ryuji Sakamoto:** Of course not, but I think you’re doing a good job of stepping in for him.

 **Makoto Niijima:** You guys…

 **Yusuke Kitagawa:** I agree. Makoto, you make a fine leader.

 **Haru Okumura:** Don’t let it get to your head, though. :P

 **Makoto Niijima:** I won’t. I promise.

 **Futaba Sakura:** Uh oh! Was that a Chekhov’s gun I just heard being loaded?

 **Ann Takamaki:** Oh, I gotta get going. I’ve got a photo shoot tonight.

 **Yusuke Kitagawa:** Good luck, Ann! I know you’ll be splendid.

 **Ann Takamaki:** Thanks!! See ya, guys!

 **Haru Okumura:** Bye!!

 **Makoto Niijima:** I should get going, too. I have some studying to do. Ryuji, if Akira calls, can you update him on the plan?

 **Ryuji Sakamoto:** Sure, but can’t he just read the messages? He’s still in the conversation, isn’t he?

 **Makoto Niijima:** I think whatever scrambled his number when he called us also removed him from the chat, and I can’t add his number anymore because of said scrambling.

 **Ryuji Sakamoto:** Ohhh, gotcha. That makes sense. Yeah, I’ll let him know.

 **Makoto Niijima:** Thanks. Have a nice night, guys!

 **Futaba Sakura:** You too, de facto leader!

\---

Once again, Haru was having trouble sleeping. She lay awake in her bed, her thoughts refusing to slow down enough to allow her to sleep. How long had it been since she had had a proper night’s sleep? Likely before all of this business with Mr. Mask had started.

Rolling onto her side, Haru picked up her phone from the nightstand beside her bed. The clock on her home screen read 2:13 AM. She was opening at Leblanc that morning, so even if she fell asleep at this precise moment, she would really only get just under four hours of sleep. Leblanc opened at 7, and Haru always made an effort to get up an hour before when she worked mornings.

Her consistent punctuality and dedication to the cafe was one of the main reasons Sakura-san had been so quick to trust her with running the shop on her own sometimes. After only a month of working there, she started closing the restaurant down on her own, and a month after that, she was trusted with opening the store some days.

Even once her sleep troubles started, she still remained diligent enough to pull herself out of bed in time to open the shop. An hour was usually a pretty generous amount of time for her to get ready and head over to Leblanc, so some days she would sleep in an extra 15 minutes. Today, however, she considered even calling in sick. This was the third night in a row that Haru had been up so late, and the first day in about a week that she’d had to open the shop.

Haru hated to cancel things so last minute, but she could tell that sleep was not going to come until very late tonight, and frankly, she was exhausted. She swiped upward on her lock screen and put in her four-digit passcode.

 

 **Haru Okumura:** Hey Futaba, are you awake?

 **Futaba Sakura:** Yeah, what’s up?

 **Haru Okumura:** Is Sakura-san still up? I’m not feeling very well, and don’t think I’ll be able to open Leblanc tomorrow morning. I wanted to let him know.

 **Futaba Sakura:** No, he’s been in bed for a while now, but I can let him know when he wakes up.

 **Haru Okumura:** Thank you! I hope I’m not imposing too much.

 **Futaba Sakura:** Not at all! Hope you feel better. <3

 **Haru Okumura:** Thank you, Futaba. Good night.

 **Futaba Sakura:** Night!

 

With a sigh of relief, Haru rolled back over on her back. Her ceiling stared down at her, its light pink hue turned a hazy blue in the dark of night. Haru squeezed her eyes shut, trying with all her might to will herself to sleep, but her mind would not quiet. Some nights it wasn’t even the Mr. Mask stuff making her too anxious to sleep, some nights it was just that her mind refused to be quiet. She would play conversations from the day over in her head, she would think up _other_ conversations in her head. Sometimes a song would play on repeat, sometimes she would simply think about Mako-chan and her other friends. Good things, like hanging out with them at Leblanc and how happy she was that they were all together again, not just the worry she felt for them with their current situation.

Tonight was one of those nights. Currently she had “Silent Night” stuck in her head (a rather ironic song choice for her brain to pick out), and was replaying a conversation she had earlier that day with Sakura-san. With an exasperated sigh, she silently begged her brain to calm down. She just needed some sleep. She was so tired.

She looked over at her phone again. 3:47. _3:47?!_ How on earth had it been an hour and a half since last time she checked? She put her phone back down and rolled over onto her left side. She tried anything to get herself to sleep. She tried meditating, counting sheep, she even pulled out her phone again and listened to soothing music. Finally, after much trying, Haru finally felt herself lose consciousness.

And then, like clockwork, she woke up at 6AM.

Unable to get herself back to sleep, Haru decided to give up. She’d gotten two hours of sleep, which, granted, was two more than yesterday, so she decided to suck it up and go to work. It took her a bit longer than usual to get ready today. She found herself dozing off in the shower, with the warm water beating down against the back of her head. She kept waking herself up though, albeit unintentionally, because she knew that if she fell asleep in the shower, she would shrivel up like a prune.

After her shower, Haru threw on her work clothes, and slowly made her way towards the subway station. She, once again, found herself dozing off while she was on the train. She’d managed to find herself a seat, which made her all the more comfortable to pass out. Why was it that she could sleep pretty much _anywhere_ but her bed?

Finally, almost an hour late, she arrived at Leblanc. Sakura-san was already inside, brewing the coffee for the morning’s customers. Haru opened the door, and Sakura-san looked up as the bell chimed. “Hey,” he said upon noticing Haru. “I thought you weren’t coming in today.”

“I wasn’t,” Haru said. “But I couldn’t get back to sleep, so I figured I’d just come in anyway.”

“Well, if you’re sick, you should stay home. Don’t want you infecting the food or the customers.”

Haru yawned and took a seat at the bar, resting her head in her arms. “I’m not sick,” she said, her voice muffled through her arms. “Just sleepy.”

“Geez, kid, how much sleep did you get last night?” The genuine worry was apparent in Sakura-san’s voice.

“Not much,” Haru replied, picking her head back up and gazing longingly at the pot of coffee that had just finished brewing. Reading her eyes, Sakura-san grabbed a mug and poured a glass for her. Usually Haru would load up on cream and sugar, but right now, even her tastebuds were half asleep. She just needed the caffeine.

She took a long gulp on the bitter concoction like a shot of medicine, stopping for a labored breath before finishing the last of it in one quaff. Sakura-san watched in trepidation. “Kid, are you okay?”

Haru sighed in content upon finishing her coffee. She could already feel the caffeine working its way through her body, slowly but surely forcing her awake. “Totally fine, now,” she said, flashing Sakura-san an innocent smile and getting up from her seat, grabbing an apron and fastening it around her body.

“Alright,” Sakura-san said. “I’m not having you open anymore until you get that sleep schedule back on track. Got it?”

“No, Sakura-san! I can do this!” Haru was determined as she was dedicated. She felt a responsibility not only to Sakura-san, but to Leblanc itself. It had become her dream to run a small shop like this, and she wasn’t going to let her customers down just because she was a little tired. She could definitely do this.

The look on Sakura-san’s face showed that he wasn’t as confident. “Really, Haru-chan,” he said. “I can handle it. Go ahead and get some rest.”

She hated to admit it, but maybe Sakura-san was right, and she should get some rest. Her body could only handle so much. Even now, with the coffee working its way through her bloodstream, she could feel the lethargy weighing down on her.

“You can use Akira’s room upstairs if you want. You look like you’re about to pass out any second.”

“Yeah, I...I might take you up on that,” she said. Her vision suddenly blurred, and her head felt a bit woozy. She took off her apron and started for the stairs. Sakura-san rushed to her side and helped her up to the attic, where she promptly collapsed onto Akira’s bed and fell asleep.

Why was it that she could seemingly fall asleep anywhere but her own bed?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so, first off, sorry this is a bit late. I've been preoccupied with school and other things and in all honesty, my mental health has not been stellar the past few weeks (I'm fine, don't worry, just a lot of thoughts and stress and not a lot of energy or motivation). And it's because of all that (coupled with the fact that I only have one more chapter of this fic finished so far) that I'm going to be **going on hiatus** for a little bit. Probably just a couple of weeks, maybe a month/month and a half. I'm still gonna be working on some smaller projects, and I'm still open for commissions, but I need some time to collect my thoughts for Jailbreak and write some more chapters. I want to get a good couple chapters ahead before I post anymore. I'm sorry! I hope that I'll start getting back on track with this fic soon. Until then, hope you all have a wonderful day! :)


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